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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24225883">time on my hands could be time spent with you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantwings/pseuds/elegantwings'>elegantwings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Communication, Domestic Fluff, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Families of Choice, Friends to Lovers, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hand Jobs, Healthy Relationships, M/M, Misunderstandings, Musician Jaskier | Dandelion, Non-Linear Narrative, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Sharing a Bed, Single Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Slow Burn, Sort Of, There was only one bed!, a possibly excessive amount of candles, quarantine fic, safe sex, stuntperson Geralt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:10:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,407</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24225883</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantwings/pseuds/elegantwings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Yennefer laughs long and hard. “Darling, if Jaskier and I lived together for more than a week, they’d find our corpses clinging to the same scarf.” Geralt agrees with her but says nothing. “I think he should stay with you.” </p><p>“Yenn,” he growls. </p><p>“Oh come on, Geralt,” she sighs, “You can’t stay mad at him forever. And he needs somewhere to stay, you know he hasn’t lived anywhere long enough to even have an apartment in years. He gets on well with Ciri, and it’s just for two weeks. What’s the harm?”  </p><p>The harm is, of course, that he hadn’t even apologized yet for that damn video. “Fine,” he says, instead of admitting it. “But I’m kicking him out if he pisses me off.”</p><p> </p><p>*** </p><p>When the stay-at-home order starts, Jaskier needs a place to stay, and Geralt just so happens to have a guest bedroom, and he gets along with Ciri, and there's no logical reason to turn him away. So Geralt swallows his pride, and pretends that everything is fine, and that Jaskier doesn't keep openly mocking him with each song he releases. Two weeks will pass in no time, and they probably won't even see each other. Probably.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1167</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Abby's Witcher Collection</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I did it. I wrote a quarantine fic. I don't talk about the actual quarantine itself much at all, it's just a prop to get Geralt and Jaskier stuck in the same place over a long period of time. I'm American, therefore this takes place in America, but all locations are kept pretty vague. We'll pretend that they're in a place that treats the situation like a legitimate pandemic and not a minor inconvenience. </p><p>Rating is for the last chapter. The fic as a whole is probably somewhere between a T and an M. Tags will be added as I go. The story is finished, I am going through the editing process now. Will update every other day or so until complete. </p><p>Song title from "I guess that's why they call it the blues" by elton john, and the lyrics at the start of the chapter are from wild by troye sivan. </p><p>For what it's worth, I imagine popstar!Jaskier as Brendan Urie, but more openly queer.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>You make my heart shake bend and break<br/>
But I can't turn away<br/>
And it's driving me wild</i>
</p><p>Geralt makes a habit of ignoring most of Yennefer’s texts unless they’re about Ciri. He still has to at least check them, and he’s almost always immediately sorry. Today, she’s sent a youtube link, and then asked if Geralt knew how to open it. He watches it out of spite then, to prove a point even though she’s not here to see it. He realizes his mistake immediately when Jaskier’s latest release starts playing. It’s called In the Moonlight, and Geralt’s heard it before, playing while he got coffee or waited in the doctor’s office. Geralt’s heard all of Jaskier’s songs, because they’re everywhere, and also because he’s coordinated the stunt work on most of his music videos. He’s actually surprised to see the video for the first time, the same time as the rest of the world, since he’s usually the one tasked with figuring out how to bring Jaskier’s ridiculous visions to life without killing anyone. He hadn’t been hired to the set of In the Moonlight. He hadn’t even known it was being filmed.</p><p><i>It’s about you!!!</i> Yennefer’s text pops above the video window. He ignores her, but she’s right. The video features Jaskier sprawled topless in a chair and singing while a white wolf stalks around him. Geralt spares a thought for how difficult that must have been to manage. And Jaskier is just wearing leather pants, running his hands over his body and through his hair. It’s not the most sexual video he’s made by half. Occasionally, the scene cuts to showcase the bare back and arms of an extremely muscular man. A man with shoulder-length silver hair. </p><p>“Fuck,” Geralt mutters to himself. He’d blown up at Jaskier at the set of his last video, because the man wouldn’t listen to reason, insisting the audience would know if it wasn’t him behind the wheel during a car chase. Finally Geralt had to threaten to close the production and only then Jaskier listened, but he stopped speaking to Geralt unless absolutely necessary for the rest of the shoot. They haven’t seen each other since, and that was at least six months ago. And now he’s getting his revenge by humiliating Geralt in front of everyone he knows, probably enjoying it even more knowing how much Geralt hates to be in the spotlight. It’s a small consolation that Ciri is only four, and even if she saw the video, she wouldn’t understand it. </p><p>He drops the phone on the table without replying to Yennefer. He doesn’t usually go for the punching bag in the back of his gym, but he’s in the mood to hit something for the next several hours. Or at least until the baby monitor to his left shows some kind of activity.</p><p>Yennefer, to his surprise, doesn’t say another word about it.</p><p>***</p><p>The only memory Geralt has of his mother consists of a cape of brown hair that urges him to ring an unfamiliar doorbell, gone by the time he turns back. He’s not even sure if it’s a real memory, or just the fantasy of a miserable boy trying to figure out where he came from.</p><p>Geralt is almost embarrassed by how much his early life mirrored some kind of after-school special. </p><p>The man who had answered the door that day had already adopted two sons and immediately accepted Geralt into his life. Geralt didn’t speak to Vesemir for weeks after finding out that he had been the one who had convinced his mother to give him up. Never mind that they were broke and homeless, and she couldn’t give him anything more than strange white hair and amber eyes. </p><p>He’d been angry as a child, and anger made him quiet, and quick to try and prove his worth. Having two older brothers hadn’t exactly helped his temperament either, and they each had their fair share of scars to show for their childhood arguments. They each also had a wolf on their right forearm, tattooed the night of Geralt’s 18th birthday. Geralt usually wears sleeves long enough to cover his, not because he regrets it, but because he learned very quickly that people will think of it as an invitation to ask questions, to judge it, and then they’ll see one of his scars, and ask about that, and so on.  </p><p>In high school, Geralt had shot up tall, taller than his peers and still so, so angry. He broke things, and bared his teeth at his father and brothers and teachers. None of his classmates got close enough to risk the same treatment. Finally the school gave him an ultimatum: one more incident and he’d be kicked out. His therapist suggested some kind of physical outlet, and Vesemir had tossed him into the first open class that would take him. It turned out to be swordsmanship, of all things, and Geralt had graduated with profficience and a healthy appreciation for antique swords. He did not get kicked out of school, and his collection of weaponry was mounted on his office walls, high enough to stay out of prying toddler hands. </p><p>Geralt got involved with stunt work on a whim. His college required him to meet with his advisor once a semester, so he met with her exactly eight times before graduation. On their final meeting, after checking that all of his credits were in order, she kindly asked him about his post-college plans. When he only blinked at her, she slid a stack of papers in front of him. An advertisement for stunt classes sits on top, and the rest was history.  </p><p>He made a career out of it, one that provided enough money that he could afford a small one-bedroom apartment, and eventually a cat, and even if he sometimes wound up with several stitches or a cracked rib, well, he’s always been able to handle a little pain. His brothers and father lived far enough away that his life outside of work consisted of working out, or going to the bar with Duny, his only friend from college. After a couple of truly spectacularly failed relationships, he was perfectly content with the occasional one night stand.</p><p>Yennefer tries to tease him, or set him up, but he ignores her, which he has largely found to be the most effective strategy. </p><p>Except for the one time it had backfired, and he’d ended up going on a date with Yennefer to shut her up, what wasn’t so terrible, especially not the fucking. This had been before Ciri, before Duny’s wife Pavetta had suggested Geralt apply to work on her “friend’s” music video. Geralt should have known better, he knew they were friends, but he still had to swallow his shock when he saw Yennefer for the first time since her shoe had chased him out of her apartment. She had been nothing but professional, too concerned with her protege, and then they’d fucked again (for the last time), and made peace. Even if they hadn’t, she’s Ciri’s godmother, and Yennefer would move the world for her.</p><p>He didn’t expect the bulk of his career to revolve around Yennefer Vengerberg, and then Jaskier, but he can’t complain for the steady well-paying work that eventually allowed him to step back from stunt work almost completely and focus on teaching the occasional instructional class, and fatherhood.</p><p>He met Jaskier on the set of one of Yennefer’s music videos. (Geralt couldn’t remember the title even if he tried). He’d only just started going by Jaskier, and it was his first record. Yennefer had apparently dragged him out of an open mic night and into a recording studio, and he nervously introduced himself as Julian before correcting himself. He seemed almost shy, and it  hadn’t been apparent, then, how much trouble Jaskier would cause, professionally and privately. </p><p>Geralt was in the middle of a class when he found out about the car accident that kills Pavetta and Duny. When his phone rang, he’d been ready to scold his students for having their phones on in class, before he realized it was his ring tone. For the longest time, he had had the perfectly acceptable factory ringtone set, until someone (almost definitely Jaskier) had swiped his phone and returned it with one of Jaskier’s songs. When he went to turn off the phone, he saw he had a missed call from Yennefer, as well as a text message. When he read it, his embarrassment and irritation almost immediately turned to incomprehension, and he sent his students home. </p><p>He called Yennefer immediately, not knowing that Ciri was safe with her, and his relief was almost immediately overshadowed with apprehension. He’d made Duny a promise, years ago, that he’d always bail him out of trouble. They’d been drunk, and Geralt’s mere presence had stopped a fight from breaking out, although it didn’t stop the bouncer from throwing them out of the bar. He’d been surprised years later, when Duny had said very seriously that Geralt was the only person he’d trust to keep his daughter safe if anything ever happened to him or Pavetta. </p><p>Setting up a will and a trust fund was something they did out of necessity, because they had Ciri’s future to consider, and enough money to matter if their wishes weren’t spelled out exactly. They never thought they’d need it. The trust fund would stay untouched until Ciri’s 18th birthday, and until then, Ciri, and therefore her guardian, Geralt, had inherited the rest. </p><p>Geralt has taken his responsibility very seriously. Ciri had just been a year old when her parents died, and they’d done as much as they could to keep her away from the media. Since Pavetta had most recently starred in the winner of the Sundance Grand Jury prize, and was rumored to be up for an Oscar,  the media focused mostly on that in the weeks after her death. Since no one really knew what happened to her daughter, they talked about it as an afterthought. Once, when Ciri was two, a paparazzi had caught the back of Geralt’s head and the side of her face. Geralt had immediately purchased the photographs and threatened the man who took them within an inch of his life to stop him from ever trying again. He destroyed the hard drive containing the pictures, but not before he’d printed one out and stuck it to the wall in his bedroom as a reminder. He doesn’t use social media, and Yennefer doesn’t share anything about Ciri on her public accounts. At least for now, Ciri is as far away from celebrity as possible, despite her godmother’s profession. </p><p>Jaskier knows about Ciri, despite Geralt’s initial misgivings. Pavetta had been friends with Jaskier too, and he’d been a constant fixture in the various parties Geralt had been cajoled into attending over the years. Yennefer had insisted he should know, and apparently told him in the utmost of confidence. To Geralt’s surprise, he hadn’t breathed a word of it in public. Then on Ciri’s third birthday, Jaskier had shown up to a party full of toddlers with a teddy bear that was almost as big as he was, and proceeded to take out a lute and sing nursery rhymes and children’s songs, sometimes repeating the same one three or four times in a row. <i>A lute.</i> Now, Pavetta’s daughter was fascinated with him and would talk for days about his songs after she saw him. She called him “Jas,” stretching the syllables and pitch depending on her mood. It seemed to please him immensely. </p><p>Her fourth birthday was actually coming up in a few weeks, and Geralt has no idea if Jaskier would show up again. </p><p>*** </p><p>Geralt starts to hear about the virus like everyone else does, and takes the recommended precautions. Proper hygiene, especially hand-washing, have always been a priority for him, and Ciri responds well enough, but she’s only three, and it’s hard to tell at the end of the day where exactly her hands have been. It’s almost a relief when classes get cancelled for two weeks and the state government tells everyone to stay home.<br/>
Geralt sets up a webcam in his home gym and holds class for anyone still interested. The crisis will pass in no time, and he can afford to extend his classes a few weeks if necessary. A few of his students and co-workers even hire him to record work-out videos so they can stay active while stuck at home. </p><p>Right when it all starts, Yennefer calls him. She assures him she’s healthy and safely sequestered away, and makes him swear to facetime her daily with Ciri. She’s actually looking forward to a little vacation from performing. Then she says, “Jaskier’s in town, and he doesn’t want to stay in a hotel while all of this is going on.”</p><p>Geralt’s hackles immediately rise. He knows what Yennfer is implying. “No. He can live with you.” </p><p>Yennefer laughs long and hard. “Darling, if Jaskier and I lived together for more than a week, they’d find our corpses clinging to the same scarf.” Geralt agrees with her but says nothing. “I think he should stay with you.” </p><p>“Yenn,” he growls. </p><p>“Oh come on, Geralt,” she sighs, “You can’t stay mad at him forever. And he needs somewhere to stay, you know he hasn’t lived anywhere long enough to even have an apartment in years. He gets on well with Ciri, and it’s just for two weeks. What’s the harm?”  </p><p>The harm is, of course, that he hadn’t even apologized yet for that damn video. “Fine,” he says, instead of admitting it. “But I’m kicking him out if he pisses me off.”</p><p>Jaskier shows up the next day in a fitted trench coat and with several suitcases. He throws his arms around Geralt before the door even shuts behind him. “You wouldn’t believe how bored I’ve been!” </p><p>“The stay at home order just started,” Geralt mutters, pushing him off, not too unkindly. Jaskier ignores him in favor of crouching down in front of Ciri.</p><p>“Hello, Princess!” he says, ruffling her curls. She’d been dressed as a pirate with a tiara at her party, and insisted everyone call her Princess. Jaskier hadn’t stopped. “I hope I haven’t missed your birthday.” Geralt cringes. </p><p>“Daddy says next month!” she cries out, over-excited. “I’ll be four!” </p><p>He shoots Geralt a strange look but doesn’t say anything to him. “I can’t wait,” he tells Ciri sincerely. She tries to drag him off towards her playroom, but Jaskier sends her ahead, promising to join her soon. Then he straightens and takes hold of a suitcase on wheels. “Lead on,” he says, and Geralt feels a flash of hot fury. But Jaskier is already walking away towards the guest room like he owns the place, leaving Geralt to growl to himself and pick up the rest of his bags. </p><p>“Rules,” Geralt says, dropping Jaskier’s bags in the doorway. He’s using the no-nonsense voice he’s reserved especially for Jaskier. “One, don’t make any loud noises after 8pm. I have extra headphones if you need them.” </p><p>Jaskier is already laying on the bed with his hands behind his head. “Fair enough. Go on.” </p><p>“No cell phones or tablets around Ciri.” Jaskier nods. “And I would really appreciate it if you could watch Ciri when I teach. But that’s not mandatory.” </p><p>Jaskier sits up and folds his legs. “Thank you Geralt, really. It was so good of you to offer, I thought you were mad at me actually, but Yennefer swears you aren’t.” Geralt swallows a retort, because the last thing he wants to do is start another fight. Jaskier is still talking. “So text me your schedule and I’ll be happy to keep an eye on Ciri, it’s the least I can do.” </p><p>“Okay,” Geralt says, and takes Jaskier to the playroom. He leaves him and Ciri to some kind of make-believe with dinosaurs, grateful at least that the two of them get along. </p><p>***</p><p>Five years ago, Yennefer had already been successful enough to convince her record label into signing Jaskier. Everyone, it seemed, was a little afraid of her, but when Geralt heard Jaskier sing for the first time, even he could agree she knew what she was talking about. Jaskier had been so eager to impress the first time they’d met, had listened to Geralt’s instructions without complaint. Of course, he’d done nothing more dangerous than sing in front of a green screen. Yennefer had been the sole focus, and she had also followed Geralt’s instructions to the letter, and if he had a favorite thing about her, it was that she still did. </p><p>Yennefer practically dragged him to her house for an after party the second filming ended. Once he arrived, he realized that he hardly knew anyone there, most of them who had nothing to do with the actual video. Usually he could at the very least talk to Pavetta and Duny when dragged to one of Yennefer’s functions, but they were out of the country so Geralt was alone. He spent hours pretending to be interested in the guests, or the music, and then Yennefer had cornered him in the kitchen and dragged him into a dark corner, and they’d had sex for the last time. They didn’t fight, but Geralt knew that if he spent the night in her bed, he might not leave it for months, or worse, and they’d be back to tossing plates at each other in no time. </p><p>Geralt was also too drunk to drive home, and didn’t particularly want to come back later for his car. Yennefer had a beautifully landscaped garden, complete with an extravagant but small fountain. The night was cool, and clear, and Geralt thought he might doze amongst the flowers until he felt sober enough to drive.</p><p>He did not expect to see the man hovering over the fountain, arm poised as if to throw something, wobbling slightly. He immediately recognized the combination of the jacket emblazoned with fat red roses and dark jeans too tight to leave anything to the imagination.<br/>
“She’ll kill you if you puke in there,” he called.</p><p>The man startled, and spun around. “Geralt!” he had exclaimed, and suddenly Geralt had found himself with an armful of Jaskier hugging him. </p><p>No one had ever thrown themselves at Geralt into a hug like that before, and Geralt could not do anything but let it happen.</p><p>“Gods, you are as thick as you look,” Jaskier had mumbled, and then leaned back, eyes bright and wide. “I’m making a wish!” he announced, and then fished around in his pants pocket for a second before producing a gleaming coin. “You should too!” </p><p>Geralt had a hard time believing his pockets were big enough to hold even one coin. “Nothing to wish for,” he shrugged, taking a step back to regain his personal space. </p><p>But Jaskier leaned in, putting an arm around his shoulder. “Come on,” he whispered, his breath hot and sweet with wine. “Everyone has at least one wish. You don’t even have to tell me. It won’t come true otherwise!”</p><p>Geralt spun him around back towards the fountain and gave him a little push. “Not me.” he said. Jaskier only giggled and allowed himself to be moved. </p><p>He held the coin tightly between both hands, held up to his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. Then he nodded once, and dropped the coin into the water. “Your turn!” he announced, taking Geralt’s hand and shoving the coin into it. Then he dragged Geralt the rest of the way to the fountain and shook his hand until he let go. “See! You dropped it, now you have to make a wish.” He grinned. </p><p>Geralt sighed. “Fine. A surpr-” Jaskier’s hand slapped over his mouth.</p><p>“Don’t tell me!” he exclaimed, deadly serious. </p><p>Geralt blinked, and slowly removed the hand from his face. “Don’t touch me.” </p><p>Instead of the angry retort he expects, Jaskier actually apologized. “What can I say, I’m a handsy drunk.” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, and again, Geralt had no idea how it fit, and reflexively checked the time. “Gods, it’s late as fuck. I’m going to uber home, you need a ride?” </p><p>Geralt, for some reason, said yes, and did not relax until he saw Jaskier stumble out of the car and into his front door. </p><p>***</p><p>He texts Yennefer and tells her to stop telling Jaskier he’s not mad at him. She doesn’t respond, and twenty minutes later facetimes to read Ciri a bedtime story. </p><p>Ciri is tucked into Geralt’s lap and her stuffed hedgehog is safe in her arms. For now, the ipad only exists to facetime their family, and though Geralt knows those days are numbered, he is determined to stretch it out as long as possible. It’s bad enough that she holds her hand flat against her face to mimic a telephone.</p><p>There’s a glint in Yennefer’s eyes when they meet Geralt’s, and he knows she’s laughing at him. Almost the second the call connects, Ciri is chattering about Jaskier and Geralt hears for the second time a meandering summary of the afternoon’s playtime. He expects Yennefer to have something biting and probably humiliating to say, but she signs off as soon as Ciri’s eyes start to droop. And she never does respond to his earlier text.</p><p>It’s only shortly past eight, an easy night as far as bedtimes are concerned, and Geralt has a choice between a sinkful of dishes or a load of laundry to pass the time. He’s elbow deep in soap suds when his phone chirps. There’s Yennefer, he thinks, unable to help herself, and decides to let her wait. But then it chirps again, and again, and he rolls his eyes as he wipes his hands off on a towel. </p><p>He has three texts from Jaskier, and frowns in the direction of the guest room. He doesn’t expect him to know where everything is already, but if he’s going to text him every time he needs something it’s going to be a long two weeks.</p><p>At some point when Geralt wasn’t paying attention, Jaskier had swiped his phone and changed his contact name from the perfectly reasonable Julian P. to Jaskier, capitalized and bracketed by two yellow flowers. He’d also added a contact photo, a casual wink thrown at the camera, clearly taken on the spot and somehow looking professionally polished. </p><p>
  <i>Jaskier 2043: what’s your schedule tomorrow</i><br/>
<i>Jaskier 2043: hope its not early im not a morning person lol</i><br/>
<i>Jaskier 2044: you have a cat??</i>
</p><p>And while Geralt catches up, another message comes through.</p><p>
  <i>Jaskier 2046: he keeps coming in and hissing??? geralt did you turn into a cat</i>
</p><p>Geralt was wondering what Roach had been up to. She usually spent the evening curled protectively at the foot of Ciri’s bed, and then at some point in the night mashed herself into Geralt’s chest. Usually, Ciri had done the same on his other side. </p><p><i>She’s a good judge of character</i>, he replies, and then types out a rough timeline of his classes over the next few days. Tomorrow is Thursday, and his first session is 10, and normally Ciri attends preschool during the day but that’s been cancelled for the time being. </p><p>Jaskier texts back a thumbs up, and then a picture of Roach on the end of the bed, looking suspicious. <i>I think she likes me.</i></p><p>***</p><p>In the beginning of the week, Ciri accepts that school is over for now without question, more concerned with breakfast than anything else. Every morning after, she asks Geralt if there was school today, and he says no, and then he sets up a play area for her a few feet away from his work space. He faces the camera away from her, turns off his video if she wanders over, and she seems delighted with their new arrangement. It’s only a couple of hours a day anyway, and the rest of their time is broken down into their usual arrangement of playtime (both of them), naps (her), and chores (him). They’ve also taken an endless amount of walks in a short two block circuit around the neighborhood. </p><p>The night Jaskier stays with them, Ciri crawls into Geralt’s bed around midnight, and wakes him up at roughly the same time as the sun rises. He hoists her onto his hip and heads for the kitchen, Roach a few steps ahead of them. The cat stops suddenly in the doorway and hisses. </p><p>There’s a lump in a bathrobe sitting at the kitchen island, face down beside the largest mug in the house. </p><p>“Jas!” Ciri squeals, wiggling in Geralt’s arms until he lets her down. She immediately wraps herself around Jaskier’s leg. </p><p>Jaskier lifts his head to peer down at her blearily. “H’lo Princess,” he mumbles, and then drops his head back down. </p><p>She looks at Geralt with a tiny frown. “What’s wrong with Jas?” she demands.</p><p>“Not sure,” Geralt says with exaggerated concern and glances in the mug at his side. Empty. “Sometimes grownups are bad at mornings.” He fills the cup with the coffee that Jaskier clearly started and abandoned, and takes out the cream and sugar. He has seen the terrible things that Jaskier can do to a cup of coffee, and sure enough, he dumps an ungodly amount of both in the cup while barely lifting his head up.</p><p>Geralt leaves him to it, and gets Ciri comfortable in her booster seat and listens to her talk about the day before for the third time while he prepares breakfast. There’s just enough coffee left for him to make his own cup, black. </p><p>There’s a lull as Ciri concentrates on arranging strawberries and bananas on her plate just so, before popping them into her mouth. Without really meaning to, Geralt had made a breakfast plate identical to his own for Jaskier, and slid it quietly across the table. Jaskier still hasn’t moved, but his mug is mysteriously empty.</p><p>“Can’t sleep in strange places,” Jaskier mumbles after a while, when Geralt is about ready to clear the plates. </p><p>Geralt’s eyebrows raise. “You live in hotels.” </p><p>Jaskier yawns and stretches, tugging the plate towards himself. “They all start to look the same after a while. This is different.” He scrunches his nose a little at the wheat toast and then shrugs, scooping some eggs onto it. “Thank you,” he says around a mouthful, nodding at the food. </p><p>Geralt decides to put on another pot of coffee, and listens to Ciri and Jaskier carry on an incoherent conversation about the inner lives of her stuffed animals.   </p><p>When Jaskier appears in the playroom a few hours later, he’s back to his usual exuberant self. Geralt realizes that he isn’t worried in the least to leave Ciri alone with him again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“What happened to Moana?” Geralt asks, sitting up and looking for a dvd case to see what was playing.</p><p>“It ended,” Jaskier shrugs.</p><p>At the same moment, Ciri chimes in, “Jas put on his favorite!” </p><p>Jaskier looks guilty. “It’s a classic!” </p><p>“What is it?” Geralt asks.</p><p>“Emperor’s New Groove.” </p><p>“Jas says you're Pacha,” Ciri supplies helpfully. </p><p>“I don’t know what that means,” Geralt says, and closes his eyes to go back to sleep. Somehow, he ends up watching the rest of the movie, instead. When it ends, he pretends he’s not awake, and Ciri demands they play the movie over from the start. So he sees the beginning, too, and decides he has nothing in common with any of the characters but Jaskier is definitely a spoiled brat. </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>Geralt and Ciri settle in to having a new housemate. On the set of Jaskier's last video, he and Geralt have words.  Ciri makes an executive decision about sleeping arrangements.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please forgive me as I have never been on the set of a music video, but I've also never never been a bard in the 1200s, so we make do. </p><p>Lyrics are from Ease by Troye Sivan</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>Take me back to the basics and the simple life<br/>
Tell me all of the things that make you feel at ease<br/>
Your touch, my comfort, and my lullaby<br/>
Holdin' on tight and sleepin' at night</i>
</p><p>On the first day of the shoot, Jaskier rambles on and on about how the song was about drag racing, but it was actually a metaphor for unrequited love, or something, and also a metaphor about sex. (It’s always a metaphor about sex). Most scenes will happen inside the car, scenes where someone can go back in post and add moving scenery outside the windows, or over the hood. There’s just a few distance shots of the race itself: Jaskier’s car neck and neck with an obscured driver while the other cars around them combust and flip off the road. </p><p>“We’re ready for Aiden,” someone announces towards the end of the day. Aiden is Jaskier’s double, and Geralt’s worked with him before. He’s confident enough that as long as they stick exactly to script, nothing will go wrong.</p><p>Jaskier hasn’t left yet, although his scenes ended hours ago. He always stays for the whole process, and Geralt can at least admire his dedication. “Aiden had a family emergency and I sent him home,” he says casually, as if he has the authority to do that. Which he doesn’t. “It’s just driving a car, how hard can it be?” Geralt realizes he's still dressed in character, impossibly tight dark jeans and a teal t-shirt emblazoned with tiny golden fleur de lis. </p><p>Geralt squeezes the bridge of his nose. "We've been over this. It's too dangerous, you can't do it." </p><p>"Oh please," Jaskier waives him off as if they haven't had this exact conversation several times. "It’s not the most dangerous thing I’ve done by half.” </p><p>“No,” Geralt says firmly. Right now, he wants nothing more than for this conversation to be over so he can take a long, hot bath and wash away hours worth of road dirt and sweat. “It’s late. We can pick this up tomorrow.” Either Aiden will be back, or they’ll find a replacement. </p><p>“No,” Jaskier mimics him, “I’m going on tour next week and this needs to get done as soon as possible. I can do it, Geralt, I’ll be fine.” </p><p>“You don’t have to have a video at all,” Geralt says before he can stop himself, and part of him is pleased with the way Jaskier opens and closes his mouth a few times in shock.</p><p>“You wouldn’t!” he breathes, genuinely surprised. Good.</p><p>“I would,” Geralt says with a shrug. “Even if you knew what you were doing, the studio won’t sign off on it.” </p><p> “Wanna bet?” Jaskier asks, arms crossed, mouth turned down in a petulant scowl. </p><p>Something snaps hard and sudden inside Geralt. “For once in your gods-damned life, would you think with the brain in your head?” he growls, as close to shouting as he’s ever come. “Just shut up and listen to me.”  </p><p>Jaskier flushes immediately, his eyes widening. “Are you perhaps short of-”</p><p>“Shut up!” Geralt spits, “Or I will walk, I swear it.” </p><p>Jaskier, to his surprise, shuts up. He turns around immediately, stalking away in the direction of his trailer. </p><p>The rest of the set is deadly silent for a few moments.  “Fuck,” he mutters, and takes off towards his car. Let them fire him, he thinks. </p><p>When he shows up for work the next day, though, Aiden is back, the scene is shot, and Jaskier doesn’t argue any further. He also doesn’t say more than two words to Geralt, and then the video is finished and by the time Geralt figures out he wants to apologize, Jaskier is gone. </p><p>***</p><p>Jaskier immediately refuses to accept any payment for babysitting, and Geralt refuses to accept any offer of rent. Jaskier does enthusiastically agree when Geralt gives him permission to show up at all mealtimes, although he does not appear in the kitchen at the crack of dawn again. The rest of the week passes almost normally. </p><p>Geralt has never had any trouble talking to Ciri, interpreting her gestures and imitation of language, and more recently, her own made-up words. In turn, she never had a problem understanding Geralt’s silence. But Jaskier is animated, and rambles about nothing, and he makes up these stories that go on and on with a distinct beginning, middle, and end. He talks to Ciri like she’s another adult, and somehow manages to frame his tales in a way that she’ll understand. Geralt is surprised when he learns that Hanna is a small plush otter and not one of Jaskier’s colleagues.</p><p>“You’re good with Ciri,” Geralt says over dinner one night, after she’s been put to bed and the silence has gone on long even for his standards. </p><p>“Children have always loved me,” Jaskier says, fork waving absently. “I have a very winning smile.” He grins lazily at Geralt. There’s bolognese sauce on the corner of his mouth. “Really, though, I think it’s because I treat them like little humans and not irritations.” His phone is next to his other hand, and he glances at it occasionally when it vibrates. </p><p>“Hmm,” Geralt agrees.</p><p>“Motherfuck-” Jaskier says suddenly, and then instinctively glances around guiltily. Geralt has told him a number of times already that Ciri’s heard enough profanity from himself and Yennefer that Jaskier can’t do any harm, but he still makes an effort not to curse. Satisfied that they’re alone, and scowls back at his phone and lets loose a string of vulgarity, finishing with, “cocksucker Valdo Marx.” </p><p>Geralt doesn’t know the name, unsure if he wants to. </p><p>“Instagram!” Jaskier groans, as if that means anything. “Bastard’s trending and he’s just lip-synching his own songs, as if anyone wants to see that.” </p><p>“Doesn’t trending mean people want to see it?” He’s genuinely not sure anymore. </p><p>“Geralt!” Jaskier exclaims, “You are killing me. Look, d’you mind if I film in the guest room? Just there, on my honor.” </p><p>Geralt rolls his eyes and shoos him off. “Go.”</p><p>Jaskier’s already halfway out of the room, phone in hand. “Ta, darling!” he waves behind his head. </p><p>Geralt looks up both instagram and the definition of trending, and then on a whim searches for Valdo Marx. He’s another pop star, popular, more of the kind of music Geralt can’t avoid hearing in the store or on the radio. The kind of music he only chooses to listen to when it's Yennefer or Jaskier.</p><p>On a whim, he opens Instagram and searches Jaskier, finding his profile right away. There’s a live feed, one that started a few minutes ago, labeled “SPONTANEOUS AMA”. Jaskier appears to have wiped the sauce from his face and changed. “The white wolf?” he says, and Geralt sees the chat on the side where people are randomly throwing out questions. “It’s literally just a white wolf?” </p><p>The chat explodes suddenly with several variations of “Is there a real white wolf? Who’s the white haired man supposed to be?” Geralt’s tattoo seems to throb. </p><p>“It’s a metaphor,” Jaskier says, with the air of someone tired of the question. “There’s enough videos with half-naked women on display, and it’s about time to let men have a go at it.” A few more people beg him for more details, unsatisfied, and he sighs. “The white wolf is just a man I-” and Geralt closes the window, because he really doesn’t want to hear Jaskier talk about this in front of thousands of strangers. He wants to ban Instagram in the house, but he has no excuse without admitting he’d seen the stream. Without admitting that his feelings are hurt, and that he still feels terribly guilty about the way he’d spoken to him six months ago, but this is too far. </p><p>He’s not sure if Yennefer told Jaskier, or if maybe he’d just been too obvious, but it’s humiliating to think that Jaskier is teasing him about his crush so publicly. </p><p>***<br/>
Geralt has gotten used to knowing that when he sees Yennefer, Jaskier won’t be far behind. They have a fake public rivalry, some story about how she resents his popularity. It only improves the sale of their collaborations. In private, they’re the best of friends, although they’ve been known to turn on one another with a sudden cattiness that makes Geralt’s head spin. Geralt makes it to maybe a third of Yennefer’s parties, and Jaskier is always there despite what else he may have going on at the time. </p><p>He’s so in love with the sound of his own voice. When he’s drunk, his cheeks flush pink and he starts to sing almost as often as he speaks, weaving lyrics in and out of his sentences when something triggers his memory. Sometimes he’ll drop on the spot and whip out a battered notebook, leaning on the nearest surface (floor, table, Geralt’s back) and start writing furiously. And he’s always seeking Geralt out, drawing him into conversations, introducing him to people he’ll never see again. He has a habit of using Geralt as a crutch when the night’s gone on too long and he’s had too much to drink, and Geralt has started making sure he’s sober by the time Jaskier needs a ride home. He just feels better knowing Jaskier has gotten home safe. </p><p>He figures it out during Ciri’s birthday party, when Ciri’s tiara is perched askew on Jaskier’s head and he’s enthusiastically dancing with a group of toddlers. He leans down and cups his hand around Ciri’s ear and the next second she’s tugging on Geralt’s hands, insisting he come dance, too. He can’t say no to her, and so he joins them, and Jaskier keeps bumping into him and wagging his eyebrows. </p><p>It isn’t a question of whether Jaskier was interested in men, but a question of if he’d ever be interested in Geralt, an aging single father who barely understands what Jaskier is talking about half the time. Yennefer only has to take one look at him from across the yard, where she is absolutely not dancing, and she knows him well enough by now to read his thoughts. She confirms it later that night while they share a bottle of wine beside the cake remnants and wrapping paper, and tries to convince him to give it a shot. </p><p>Geralt doesn’t consider confessing, and keeps ignoring it. Then Jaskier’s recklessness gets the better of him, and Geralt’s patience finally runs out, and he’s more certain than ever that Jaskier does not want him back. </p><p>***</p><p>Ciri has tantrums like any other four-year-old, but they’re getting ready to call Yennefer for the seventh night in the row and Ciri starts to scream. She starts demanding to see Yennefer, right now, and Geralt understands what she means. Geralt misses being around other people without expecting to, even just seeing different faces when he stops in Starbucks. </p><p>A few minutes after the screaming starts, Jaskier comes skidding into the room, eyes wide. “What’s happened?” he asks, and then relaxes when he sees that Ciri, although still screaming, doesn’t appear hurt. </p><p>Ciri only sobs out “Yenn,” in a miserable wail.</p><p>“Oh my darling,” Jaskier coos, sweeping her up into his arms and patting her back, “My poor love, yes, I miss Yenn too, this whole thing has been so hard.” She continues to cry while he rocks her, but slowly starts to taper off.</p><p>Jaskier seems to realize Geralt’s still there after a few minutes, looking caught. “Oh, uh, shit, I mean, uh, fuck. It’s just, after this week, it’s automatic, d’you want me to-” he starts to move back towards the bed to pass her off but she whines when he tries to let her go. </p><p>He laughs nervously, but Geralt shrugs. “Whatever makes her happy,” he says, and gestures towards the bed. “Ciri, do you want me to call Yenn?” </p><p>She nods into Jaskier’s shoulder. After a few moments of moving around, they arrange her in between them, and she seems calm enough, although her eyes are still wet. Jaskier has pulled out an actual monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket to wipe her face. </p><p>The call doesn’t last very long. Ciri starts to fall asleep almost immediately, and Geralt can see that Yennefer is unhappy too, especially after he quietly explains to her what happened. By the time Geralt ends the call, Jaskier is snoring a little and drooling into the pillow, his arm curled protectively around Ciri. Geralt gently pulls the covers up around them and kisses Ciri’s temple, ignoring the way Jaskier breathes against his cheek when he does so.</p><p>Just as he turns off the light, Ciri sits up and looks around. “Daddy?” she says.</p><p>Geralt sighs and gets back into the bed, glad to have changed earlier into sweatpants. Poor Jaskier is still in jeans. The bed is small for two adult men to share, even with Ciri half on top of Jaskier. Geralt tries to face the wall, but Ciri tugs on his arm and he turns around to hold her. His forearm presses into Jaskier’s chest. </p><p>Jaskier blinks awake across from him. “I can go,” he whispers. </p><p>Geralt shakes his head slightly. “She’ll cry.” </p><p>“Okay,” Jaskier whispers back, and seems to scoot just a little bit backwards. “Good night, Geralt.” </p><p>*** </p><p>When Geralt wakes up, his chest is flush with Jaskier’s back, and the other man is still breathing evenly. Geralt isn’t even exactly sure where they are, but he knows with absolute certainty that he is breathing into the back of Jaskier’s neck. Worst of all, their hands are joined together over Jaskier’s stomach. Apparently he’s lost his grip on self-control like a teenager. There’s a headache radiating from the base of his skull to his temples, and he’s starting to vaguely remember the night before. The pool, overfull with people, that lit up when it started to get dark, the red, white and blue jello shots that Yennefer insisted had to be done as a matching set, Jaskier showing up at the last minute and everyone cheering. Geralt didn’t want to swim, but Yennefer had “found” a “spare” pair of trunks in his size and Jaskier coaxed him into a game of chicken. Geralt wouldn’t be surprised if he had bruises from Jaskier’s heels kicking into his chest.</p><p>If he moves very slowly, he thinks he can get out of this hold without waking Jaskier. He starts to shuffle backwards, but even the small movement causes Jaskier to start to stir. Even though he drank enough last night he should still be dead to the world. </p><p>“Good morning, love,” Jaskier murmurs, his voice rough with sleep, and cants his hips backwards so that his ass presses against Geralt’s morning wood. </p><p>Geralt winces and mutters, “Fuck,” at his involuntary responding thrust. Jaskier freezes.</p><p>“Geralt?” he asks nervously. </p><p>Geralt doesn’t know what to say, so he settles on a short, “Hmm.” </p><p>Jaskier slowly, carefully scoots forward and disentangles their arms. “Sorry, just um, did we have sex last night?” </p><p>“Your virtue is intact!” Yennefer shouts from somewhere away. “Come have breakfast!” </p><p>Jaskier scrambles up, startled, and starts pulling a shirt over his head, a black henley. </p><p>Geralt clears his throat. “That’s mine.” They’re both still wearing trunks, although at some point in the night, soaking wet, Geralt had found the shirt and given it to Jaskier when he was cold.  </p><p>Jaskier pulls the collar out and looks down. “Huh. Geralt,” he rolls his eyes, “It’s summer.” </p><p>Geralt shrugs and accepts it back, and Jaskier escapes to the kitchen. When Geralt checks the time, it’s almost one. Although he knows his father enjoys looking after Ciri, it’s been long enough. He doesn’t stop in the kitchen, just finds his pants and his keys and goes home. </p><p>Jaskier’s songs keep playing on the radio, so he turns it off and drives in silence. </p><p>*** </p><p>The day after Ciri’s tantrum, she is sullen and prone to tears at the drop of a hat. After she melts down and upends a bowl of cereal, and then throws her cup of juice on the floor, Geralt decides to cancel class for the day. He really just wants to go to sleep, so he lowers the lights in the playroom and puts on Moana. It was between that and Frozen, but he’s already had enough of platinum blondes throwing tantrums. Ciri has goldfish crackers and her hedgehog, Geralt has a thermos of coffee, and they settle on the plush couch in front of the TV. It doesn’t magically turn her mood, but it helps, and they can both doze on and off through the morning with Roach at their feet. </p><p>Trying to sleep in Ciri’s bed with her and Jaskier was hopeless. Geralt’s a light sleeper, even lighter as a father, and every time one of them so much as twitched, he woke  up. At some point, Roach’s tiny feet pitter-pattered over the headboard and she headbutted the top of Geralt’s head as if to complain about the current sleeping situation. After a while, Geralt just stopped trying, concentrating on keeping his eyes shut instead of staring at Jaskier while he slept. </p><p>Geralt didn’t have the excuse of alcohol to explain why he didn't move away when Jaskier shuffled closer and threw a leg over Geralt’s. They were in a strange closed parenthesis with Ciri in the middle, with Geralt’s arm squeezed between her and Jaskier. He lost feeling in his fingers almost immediately. Jaskier kept making these little humming sounds, like he was composing, even in his sleep, and for a moment, Geralt let himself imagine what it would be like to share a bed with a partner. When Jaskier had swooped in and soothed Ciri’s tears, Geralt hadn’t been jealous, he’d been relieved. He had as much difficulty calming Ciri’s bad moods as his own, and it’s been days since they’ve left the house and he was starting to feel strange. Caged. The one constant good thing had been that living with Jaskier turned out to be almost pleasant instead of miserable as he feared. </p><p>Geralt falls asleep at some point during the second viewing of Moana. When he wakes up, the movie is over (again) and Ciri is no longer in his arms. For a moment he worries she’s gone to get herself a snack, but he can hear whispering nearby. Well, one person is whispering and Ciri is more or less talking in her normal voice. </p><p>“Good morning, Geralt!” Jaskier says in a regular voice. “Or, I guess, good afternoon. Did you have a nice nap?” </p><p>That morning, Geralt had woken up with the sunrise as usual. Jaskier didn’t stir, not even when Geralt disentangled himself and Ciri from the bed. Ciri had wanted to wake him, but Geralt distracted her with promises of Lucky Charms, and Jaskier had not joined them at any point. Now he’s sitting on the floor and Ciri is above him, and there’s an irritating cartoon llama on the screen. </p><p>“What happened to Moana?” Geralt asks, sitting up and looking for a dvd case to see what was playing.</p><p>“It ended,” Jaskier shrugs.</p><p>At the same moment, Ciri chimes in, “Jas put on his favorite!” </p><p>Jaskier looks guilty. “It’s a classic!” </p><p>“What is it?” Geralt asks.</p><p>“Emperor’s New Groove.” </p><p>“Jas says you're Pacha,” Ciri supplies helpfully. </p><p>“I don’t know what that means,” Geralt says, and closes his eyes to go back to sleep. Somehow, he ends up watching the rest of the movie, instead. When it ends, he pretends he’s not awake, and Ciri demands they play the movie over from the start. So he sees the beginning, too, and decides he has nothing in common with any of the characters but Jaskier is definitely a spoiled brat. </p><p>The rest of the day passes similarly. Geralt gives up on sleeping eventually and lets the voices in the room wash over him. Jaskier seems to have finally met his match as far as endless talking goes, but he hangs on to Ciri’s every word as if she’s discussing a matter of utmost importance. This is how Geralt treats her, of course, but he’s not used to seeing others give her as much patience and attention. Not for the first time, he’s realizing that Ciri will be sad to see her new best friend leave when this ends. </p><p>At some point, Jaskier disappears for almost an hour. Geralt has to assume he’s finally grown bored of hanging out with a toddler, but he returns with three bowls of mac &amp; cheese and a pile of juice boxes balanced on a tray. </p><p>“Don’t ever get a chance to cook,” Jaskier says around a mouthful of pasta. “And if I’m honest, I’m not exactly Gordon Ramsey. But nothing’s easier than melting together cheese and pasta.” </p><p>Geralt realizes that the sauce isn’t the typical electric orange colors of one of the box mixes from the pantry. Jaskier has gone and made it from scratch, and it’s a comforting shade of white. </p><p>He looks over at the juice boxes with a raised eyebrow. “Ah,” Jaskier says, examining the flavors and picking one. “Thought it’d be fun.” </p><p>Geralt selects a pomegranate blueberry, always bewildered at how many new flavors there are for kid’s food and drinks these days. He considers the foolishness of a man of his size holding the tiny drink in his hand, and then pushes the plastic straw in. They taste good, because he’s always sure to buy the more expensive ones with less sugar and more actual juice, and no one here is going to make fun of him. </p><p>Jaskier bumps his juice box against Ciri’s, and then reaches over and taps Geralt’s, as well. “Cheers,” he says, grinning, “To streaming services saving us from quarantine.” </p><p>By Ciri’s bedtime, she is in her pajamas, a pale pink set with little flowers, and in bed. The only thing different from the night before is that Jaskier is with them from the start when they call Yennefer. Ciri gives her a sort of accurate retelling of several movies, and then when she’s done, leans in close to the ipad in Geralt’s hands. “Jas says not to tell you that you’re Yzma.” </p><p>“Oh he does, does he?” Yennefer says slyly, smiling. “You tell him if he’s not careful, I’ll turn him into a flea.” </p><p>“Y’know, I believe you can do that,” Jaskier says with a shudder.</p><p>When it’s time for actual sleep, Ciri clings to Jaskier and demands he sleep with her again.</p><p>“Ciri,” Geralt says gently, “I think Jaskier probably wants to sleep in his own bed.”</p><p>She looks ready to start crying again, but Jaskier quickly says, “No, no it’s okay, really. I mean, if you don’t mind Geralt, I don’t mind. But just one more night, okay Princess?” Jaskier says to her.</p><p>She allows it, and the two of them settle into the bed. Geralt kisses Ciri goodnight, and then turns off the light and opens the door. “Daddy?” Ciri calls, “You gotta stay too.” </p><p>Geralt sighs in the doorway. He remembers the night before, the cramped bed, sleeping for three hours, if that. He walks back to the bed and crouches down beside the two of them. “Your bed doesn’t really fit the three of us,” he says, smoothing a hand through her hair. “We can sleep in my bed, if Jaskier’s okay with that.” He looks over at him, selfishly pleased that the darkness hides his expression.</p><p>The three of them fit into Geralt’s king with room to spare. So he doesn’t have to lean against Jaskier to fit, and the few times he wakes up, it’s because Ciri’s flung her arm out in her sleep, or there’s some loud noise. Roach is happily curled up against his back, even though she has plenty of room to stretch out. Still, somehow, in the morning, Geralt still wakes with his legs tangled in Jaskier’s, both of them curled protectively around Ciri.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>please visit me to yell into the void <a href="https://twitter.com/tentaclebowtie">twitter</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well can't have a multi-chapter story without a little bit of angst. Fear not, it will all be okay in the end. </p><p>Song lyrics from Fool by Troye Sivan. Have you noticed a theme yet. </p><p>My dearest <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/regulardragon">Marina</a> made me a beautiful <a href="https://youruffledmyruffalo.tumblr.com/post/618654182806880256/time-on-my-hands-could-be-time-spent-with-you">moodboard</a>, please check it out and lavish her with affection</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>Oh, our lives don't collide, I'm aware of this<br/>
The differences and impulses and your obsession with<br/>
The little things you like stick, and I like aerosol<br/>
Don't give a fuck, not giving up, I still want it all</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Ciri does not go back to sleeping in her own room the next night, or the night after, and the quarantine shows no sign of calming down. Sure enough, by the time the first two weeks are up, the stay at home order has been pushed back to the second week of April. Geralt sends out an apologetic email to his family and the parents of some of Ciri’s classmates, indefinitely postponing her birthday party. The harder part is going to be explaining to Ciri that they have to wait and he’s not really sure until when. </p><p>Jaskier brings up extending his stay casually, while the three of them watch the Lion King remake. Ciri is enraptured, but for a change Jaskier is not right there with her. When the movie had started, he leaned over to Geralt and whispered, “Those faces are creepy,” and Geralt’s chance of enjoying the film dissipated. Of course, it wasn’t as if he was particularly looking forward to seeing it. </p><p>Jaskier looks a bit nervous, actually, and he says, “Okay, so, we don’t really know when this will be over, right,” as if he’d rehearsed it. “I’d be really grateful if, um, I could keep staying here, reduce the risk of exposure and all that, and I really can pay you rent, if you’d like. It’s no problem.” </p><p>Geralt knows he could charge an exorbitant rate and Jaskier could probably afford it without batting an eye. “Do you really think I’d charge you?” he grumbles. He hadn’t actually thought he needed to tell Jaskier he was welcome to keep staying. </p><p>“Oh!” Jaskier’s face lights up, “You really don’t mind? I know you like your space.” Geralt shrugs. “Thanks, Geralt.” He smiles. “Y’know, I thought Yennefer was taking the piss when she said you suggested I stay here.” </p><p>Geralt tenses. </p><p>“Oh,” Jaskier says with a resigned look. “You didn’t suggest I stay here. Of course.” He gets up abruptly. “Well, I have work to do,” he says, which can’t possibly be true, and kisses the top of Ciri’s head.</p><p>“Wait,” Geralt stands up too, and Ciri turns around briefly to scowl and hush him. “Sorry,” he whispers. He leans in towards Jaskier so he can speak quietly. “We want,” he glances at Ciri, “I want you to stay.”</p><p>He’s not sure what else he should say, but Jaskier softens. “I know. Thank you, Geralt.” He squeezes his forearm. “I’m going to go stream, okay?”</p><p>Geralt suddenly feels foolish. “Okay,” he agrees, and watches him leave. </p><p>***</p><p>After the first couple of nights, it seems to occur to Jaskier that he’s gone to sleep before 9pm twice in a row. He must be growing tired of sharing a bed with another grown man, and while he’s politely refrained from saying anything, Geralt is sure he must know they wake up in the morning intertwined. On the third night, he stays as long as it takes for Ciri to fall asleep, and then carefully withdraws from Geralt’s bed. Geralt gets up too, once he’s sure she’s asleep, and clicks on the monitor. He spends the next couple of hours checking his email, and then gets lost on an unfortunate rabbit hole of the news, specifically about the virus. When he stumbles back to bed in the middle of the night, irritated and for some reason sad, he’s momentarily stunned to see that Jaskier is back, fast asleep, sprawled out on the mattress. Ciri is upside down, one of her feet a few centimeters from his neck. Geralt gently rights her, and gets into bed on her other side. The same thing keeps happening every night, and neither one of them acknowledges it during the daytime. </p><p>The day before Ciri’s birthday. Jasker decides he’s going to bake a cake from scratch. He instructs Geralt that no one is to enter the kitchen until he says. When Geralt gives him permission to “stream” or whatever, Jaskier pumps his fist into the air. “Best landlord ever!” Jaskier says, clapping his back, as if he’s ever had one before. </p><p>While Ciri is down for a nap, Geralt decides to spend some time in the gym. He’s still holding hosting sessions online for anyone interested, but motivation seems to be in short supply as the quarantine continues. Geralt understands the feeling, although for him, working out is sometimes the only alone time he’ll get all day, especially now that he’s given up the pretense of Ciri sleeping in her own bed. </p><p>Jaskier still spends all his free time making videos for his fans, videos that Geralt has absolutely not watched during the scant free moments he sets aside for his own personal time. He has not seen every one, shot in the comforting familiarity of his own home, and he hasn’t watched any of the ones Jaskier made before that, either. </p><p>Geralt is about to start his workout when he realizes he forgot to bring any water with him. He shakes himself a little, because it’s not like him to forget something like that, and decides to break Jaskier’s rule. It’s his kitchen, after all.</p><p>“I’m coming in!” Geralt shouts as he approaches. He’s hit with a smell coming from the oven all of a sudden, tempting and sweet, and Jaskier tilts back from the counter to see him in the doorway. </p><p>“Cheater,” Jaskier pouts. There’s flour all over the counters, half open bags of ingredients, bottles without caps. He’s wearing a stained apron over his clothes, but his shirt and pants are still streaked. There’s also a clump of dough stuck to the back of his neckline, somehow. One of his hands holds a bowl while the other stirs its contents. </p><p>His phone is propped up to his right, tilted away from the door and towards him. Geralt eyes it warily. “Mute that.” </p><p>“Got it,” Jaskier agrees, and addresses the screen. “Back soon, loves,” and taps it. “Can I help you?” he asks Geralt.</p><p>“Where did you get an apron?” he asks. </p><p>Jaskier twirls in a circle and holds out the edge like a skirt. It’s red and white checkered, with ruffles around the collar. A cloud of flour puffs up around him. “It was in a drawer.” </p><p>Geralt is certain he’s never seen it before, but he lets it go and nods towards the fridge. “I’m gonna just. You can turn it back on.” </p><p>He carefully walks outside of the view of the phone to get to the fridge. The oven goes off suddenly, and Jaskier cuts off mid-ramble and says, “Shit!” from behind him. Geralt shakes his head. When he turns around, Jaskier is examining the cake and showing his audience. He leaves him to it. </p><p>Jaskier doesn’t join them to facetime Yennefer but he is there in time to tuck Ciri in. He’s changed clothes, and now he’s fidgeting, biting his lip and refusing to meet Geralt’s eyes. Geralt is almost certain that his kitchen is still a complete mess, and possibly covered in broken glass. Something terrible and messy. But Jaskier hovers silently outside of Geralt’s door after they’re certain Ciri is asleep, looking nervously at his phone.</p><p>“Out with it,” Geralt says, steering him away from the door and towards the kitchen. “What did you break.”</p><p>“Nothing!” Jaskier says pulling on his arm to stop him. “It’s not that, baking was fine. It’s just, the thing is, you might’ve gotten on camera for a bit.”</p><p>“Might’ve?” Geralt asks icily, thinking back to when his back was turned. </p><p>“Definitely, you definitely did,” Jaskier says with a wince, “Just, here,” and he holds his phone face-up towards Geralt. He doesn’t have twitter, but he’s familiar enough with the interface, and he reads the first few tweets. Some of them have pictures of the back of his head half-obscured by the refrigerator door, and people are saying things like, “Is that the white wolf????” and, “he is way hotter than the guy in the video,” and, most alarmingly, “Do you think the carpet matches the drapes?” </p><p>His fists clench. “Jaskier, if you did this on purpose, for <i>sales</i> -”</p><p>“No!” Jaskier gasps, eyes wide, “I would never, I just wanted to apologize, and I wanted you to hear it from me first. I really am terribly sorry, I should have been more careful but I got distracted when the oven went off and almost dropped my phone. Didn’t even realize until I saw what was trending.” </p><p>Geralt hums. “I am not your white wolf,” he mutters.</p><p>“I <i>know</i> that, Geralt,” Jaskier says gently, “I’ve tried telling them there is no white wolf but you know what fans are like.” </p><p>Geralt does, and he runs a hand through his hair. Jaskier’s outright rejection of him, even as an accident, stings, and he pushes the feeling away. “Just. Be more careful, okay?” </p><p>“I swear it,” Jaskier says solemnly.</p><p>Geralt thinks about asking him to stay in his own room, but tomorrow is Ciri’s birthday, so he doesn’t. </p><p>***</p><p>The first time Geralt has a birthday, he’s been with Vesemir a year to the day and he never quite learns what to do with a whole day dedicated just to him. He didn’t even have a birth certificate the day Lambert found him sitting alone on his porch with his head on his knees. One day it occurs to him that he might not even know the name his mother called him, and he wonders for years before he realizes that he can just ask Vesemir. </p><p>Vesemir picks the day his mother gave him up for his birthday. Of course he doesn’t see it that way, rather as a happy day to celebrate, and Geralt is always so eager to please him that it takes years for him to pinpoint exactly why he hates the day so much. By then it’s too late. It’s another day to ignore just like any other. </p><p>He’s almost relieved when Ciri’s born on his birthday, before he ever knows she’ll be his, because it takes the attention off of him completely. In fact, a year later, just a couple of short months from the car crash, he actually enjoys the day because it’s Ciri’s first birthday party, even when she shoves an electric blue fistful of her smash cake into his face. </p><p>It’s also the one thing Yennefer doesn’t pry about. He never makes one comment that they share the day and even though she must have her ways of finding out, she never mentions it. He wonders if she doesn’t want the competition, or if maybe her sixth sense extends to knowing what subjects she should absolutely ignore. When they date briefly, he tries to explain to her, but it comes out halting and not enough, and he resolves to continue to leave it buried. </p><p>The night after Ciri’s first birthday party, Yennefer throws a party of her own. Geralt goes, as always, and in no time at all, Jaskier is following at his heels. The man has this strange habit of asking Geralt his opinion if he spent too long without speaking, or asking about his work and he always knows if Geralt has had any work lately or had been going through a particularly long dry spot. If it was the latter, he’d always know someone or other who could use someone with Geralt’s skills, even if they were technically people Jaskier himself didn’t get along with. But on this particular night, for some reason, he’s subdued. No one else seems to notice. </p><p>When Jaskier disappears for more than an hour, Geralt seeks him out despite himself. He was worried about him, and unsettled by it, feeling like the script had been switched without his input, and he didn’t quite remember how to socialize with these people by himself anymore.</p><p>It was a cool night, for late April, and Geralt finds Jaskier in one of the upstairs rooms cordoned off from the guests. Jaskier is sitting on the floor and has an open bottle of wine that he offers up when he sees Geralt. Geralt takes it, and makes a face almost as soon as he takes a sip. It’s some kind white, fruity and too sweet. </p><p>“You’re so butch,” Jaskier says rolling his eyes and taking it back.</p><p>Geralt frowns. “Is that a bad thing?” </p><p>Jaskier shrugs. “No, but your taste is boring as fuck.” As he takes a swig of it, the phone in the middle of his crossed legs starts to vibrate and he shoves it under the bed without looking. </p><p>“Loan shark?” Geralt asks, deadpan.</p><p>He can see Jaskier’s upset, but he doesn’t expect to see him react so angrily. “I wish!” He grabs the phone out from under the bed, silent now, and drops it back in his lap. “Y’know my mum’s called me ten times in the last hour. This time she says if I don’t come home they’ll cut off my inheritance, but I’ve already told her she and that prick who says he fathered me can shove it right-” His already pink cheeks are darkening to red, his fists clenched. </p><p>“Take a breath, Jaskier,” Geralt interrupts, handing him the bottle of water he grabbed ahead in case of a moment just like this.</p><p>Jaskier accepts it and starts chugging from it, and the phone starts to vibrate again. He tosses it back under the bed.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Geralt asks.</p><p>“I don’t know!” Jaskier groans, dropping his head in his hands. “I just want her to stop calling me!” When he gets the phone again, Geralt holds out his hand and Jaskier passes it over. “Please don’t answer it.”</p><p>“No,” Geralt agrees, thumbing it off and slipping it into his pocket. He nods back towards the party. “I won’t let anything happen to it.” </p><p>Jaskier shakes his head. “Don’t much feel like partying right now. Distract me?” </p><p>“How?” </p><p>Jaskier seems to think for a second, drinking more. “Oh, I know. Tell me about your mum. I bet she’s the kind always in the kitchen with an apron, baking something delicious. Always wanted one of those.”</p><p>Geralt’s chest clenches for a second. “No. I don’t...have one.” </p><p>“Christ,” Jaskier says, “Look at me sticking my foot in my mouth again. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Geralt shrugs. “Nothing to be sorry for. Don’t know if she’s dead.” </p><p>“Fuck,” Jaskier mutters. “Just ignore me.” He leans on the bed to stand up, and holds a hand down to Geralt. “Let’s go back.” </p><p>When Geralt drops Jaskier home that night, he has to coax him to take off his shoes and sleep on the bed instead of the couch where he falls first. “You eyes are veryy…” he slurs and trails off, falling asleep. Geralt leaves the phone on the counter in his kitchen, face down and not on a charger, and locks the door behind him.</p><p>***</p><p>The morning of Ciri’s birthday, a delivery truck pulls up and unloads several boxes of toys and books from Yennefer. This happens every year, quarantine or no, and then Geralt will spend the next nine months spreading them out until Christmas, rinse, repeat. There’s even more than usual because Yennefer can’t come in person. </p><p>When Geralt woke up this morning, it was to the sounds of Ciri talking loudly on his phone. It wasn’t the first time she’d decided to take it upon herself to use his phone while he’s asleep, and it meant she’d memorized his passcode again and he’ll have to change it. He sits up and looks at her, perched on the edge of the bed. “Who are you talking to?” he asks, worried that it’s one of his co-workers or worse, a random number.</p><p>She beams over at him. “I’m a big girl now, and I called Yenn.” Geralt relaxes and then checks the clock by the bed, relieved it’s past seven. “Say hi!” Ciri demands, holding the phone out. </p><p>“Hello Geralt,” Yennefer says distantly from the speaker.</p><p>“Hi Yenn,” Jaskier mumbles sleepily back before Geralt can respond. Yennefer doesn’t react and for a second Geralt hopes that she’s mistaken Jaskier’s voice for his, and then she starts to laugh. </p><p>“Sounds like someone’s having a happy birthday,” Yennefer cackles, and he takes the phone from Ciri’s hand and holds it to his ear. </p><p>“It’s not what you think,” he hisses.</p><p>“Is it your birthday, too, Daddy?” Ciri echoes, far too perceptive as far as Geralt is concerned. </p><p>Jaskier makes a sleepy snuffling sound and shifts on the other side of the bed. Geralt considers literally kicking him to the floor. </p><p>Yennefer is still laughing. “What, are you going to tell me that he’s sleeping there for Ciri’s benefit?” He doesn’t answer, and she sobers. “Oh dear. You really must be in the running for the self-hatred Olympics.”  </p><p>“I’m doing it for Ciri,” he mutters, uselessly, and hands the phone back to Ciri. “Yenn wants you to tell her how the Lion King goes, from start to finish.” Ciri immediately starts chattering away. He’s sure he’ll suffer for that later, but now he’s going to get up and make birthday pancakes. </p><p>After breakfast, he allows Ciri to scroll through several toddler-approved apps on the ipad, and sometime after lunch it completely disappears. They have plans to call Yennefer back, so the three of them can sing Happy Birthday to Ciri and watch her tackle some of the still too-large pile of gifts. Ciri swears she doesn’t know what happened to it, on the verge of tears, and she’s not prone to lying to get out of trouble. He’s about to just use his phone when Jaskier appears in the doorway.  </p><p>“Hope you don’t mind I borrowed this,” he says, holding out the ipad. One of these days, Geralt is going to figure out how Jaskier manages to get around his house undetected. Geralt frowns and reaches for the device, relieved that Ciri is cheered by both its and Jaskier’s appearance. </p><p>“Actually, come with me,” Jaskier says, waving them over. “I’ve got a surprise!” </p><p>Ciri squeals and goes running for him, tugging on the bottom of his shirt. “Is it for my birthday??”</p><p>“It sure is, Princess,” he says, allowing her to climb into his arms and settle on his hip. “Coming, Geralt?” </p><p>“We’re going to be late,” he mutters, but he follows Jaskier to the kitchen. It feels like a lot of fanfare for what is going to amount to a sloppily frosted homemade cake, although he knows Ciri will love it. </p><p>The kitchen is completely decked out in streamers and balloons, with a banner proclaiming “Happy Birthday!” over one wall. There’s a candle in the window that fills the room with a strong but not overpowering flowery scent, and the cake is sitting on a fancy dish that Geralt has probably never used before. There’s a row of candles also spelling out “Happy Birthday” surrounded by one larger candle in the shape of a 4. </p><p>“I found a Pinterest,” Jaskier confesses quietly while Ciri runs around the room, tugging on balloon strings, picking up a handful of the confetti spread out on the table. Her booster seat is already helpfully attached to one of the tall chairs around the kitchen island, and Geralt helps her up and uses the moment as an excuse to examine the cake.</p><p>It’s a simple two-tiered round cake with white frosting, covered in delicate yellow flowers and little flat pastel sprinkles, with the words “Princess Cirilla” spelled out in pink around the candles. “Don’t worry,” Jaskier says from the other side of the table, “I’ve already taken pictures.” Geralt self-consciously lets go of his phone, slipping it back into his pocket. Ciri is practically vibrating in the chair.</p><p>“What do you say to Jaskier?” Geralt prods her gently. </p><p>“Thank you Jas!” she parrots back politely. “Where’s Yenn?”</p><p>“There’s one more surprise,” Jaksier says, winking, and Geralt realizes he still has the ipad. He slips it into the case that doubles as a stand and presses the screen a few times. Then he pulls it back a fraction and says, “Okay, everyone ready?” and then sets it on the counter, facing the screen towards Ciri. </p><p>When Geralt sees the screen he doesn’t know what to think. There’s at least fifteen faces shouting, “Happy Birthday Ciri!”, from some of her classmates and their parents, to his father and brothers, and of course, Yennefer. He makes a mental note to yell at her and his family for keeping things from him, although he can’t really bring himself to be mad about it. </p><p>Geralt tunes out the cacophony of toddlers all trying to talk over each other at the same time, and gets a knife and a handful of small plates. He fills Ciri’s sippy cup with milk, and then Jaskier looks at him expectantly, so he pours one for him, too, also in a sippy cup. Geralt can’t help but think it’s a tragedy they’re going to cut the cake. </p><p>Jaskier lights the candles, and Geralt can see that everyone on the video, even the parents and some of the older and younger siblings of Ciri’s friends, has a cupcake in hand. Each one is perfectly frosted with baby blue icing. Then Jaskier pulls out his damn lute and straps it over his shoulders, and comes around to the same side as Ciri and Geralt. He must know some kind of magic Geralt has never understood, because in just a few minutes he’s got everyone under his attention while he leads them all to sing. </p><p>Ciri positively glows the whole time, and when she squeezes her eyes shut to make a wish, Geralt is suddenly reminded of the night he and Jaskier met by the fountain at Yennefer’s party. He was going to wish for a surprise that night, because he thought it was harmless enough, and he couldn’t think of anything else, and he didn’t really believe in wishes, anyway. The five years since have been full of almost endless surprises. </p><p>“Did you bake cupcakes for fifteen people in isolation?” Geralt asks afterwards, rinsing the dishes in the sink. Ciri is still sitting at the table, engrossed with a set of Disney Princess legos. Geralt is pretending he can’t see that there’s frosting in her hair. The cake was too sweet, but Geralt was pretty sure it was supposed to be that way, and he was impressed. </p><p>“God no,” Jaskier replies. At some point, he’d tied a balloon string around his wrist and it bounced along with his gestures. “I had a local bakery deliver it all.”</p><p>“And this?” Geralt asks, pointing towards the banner on the wall.</p><p>“Oh!” Jaskier says laughing, “I had that delivered a couple of days ago while you were teaching. Sanitized everything I could, just like the internet said, and Yennefer helped me get the contacts of all of Ciri’s friends and your dad and brothers. Nice guys, by the way.”</p><p>Geralt nods, but something is still bothering him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks. </p><p>Jaskier shrugs, toying with the balloon string. “I know it’s not your birthday, but I figured you could stand to have someone doing something nice for you for a change, especially right now.” </p><p>“Right now?”</p><p>“You know, while we’re all stuck inside like this. You really should get some kind of medal with how well you’ve handled this whole thing, with a kid no less. I’ve had nothing to do for four weeks and I’m a right mess.” Geralt’s not sure what he’s exactly supposed to think is a mess. Sure, he’s been wearing sweatpants for days and his hair is just starting to curl around the edges, his bangs hanging just too low over his eyebrows. At least he’s still shaving in the morning. Geralt is pretty sure he hasn’t touched his razor since this all started. </p><p>“You’re doing fine,” Geralt says, looking at the dishes as he dries them. “Thank you. Not just for today. I don’t know if we’d have been able to get through all this without you.” </p><p>‘Yeah of course,” Jaskier says almost absently. “Hey, when’s your birthday?” </p><p>Geralt can feel himself blushing and scowls, debating if he should respond, and then resigns himself to it. “It is actually today, too,” he mutters.</p><p>“Geralt!” Jaskier gasps, loud enough that Ciri looks at them both questioningly. “Don’t worry about us, sweetheart,” he says to her, “Your daddy is just very silly.”</p><p>“Very silly,” Ciri echoes solemnly, and goes back to building a tower of pale purple bricks. </p><p>“It’s not important,” he says, “It’s never been important. It’s just a day.” </p><p>“I beg to differ,” Jaskier gestures around the room. </p><p>“Jaskier,” Geralt says warningly, facing him, “Just drop it, okay?”</p><p>“I’m giving you a present,” Jaskier says firmly. </p><p>“I don’t want-” Geralt starts, louder than he means, and Jaskier is moving towards him, framing his face in his hands and kissing him softly on the lips. </p><p>Geralt immediately, helplessly deepens the kiss, because every morning they’ve woken up practically face to face and all Geralt has wanted to do is this, to cup the back of Jaskier’s head and hold him close so that their chests touch. The sink presses into his back as he wraps his hand around Jaskier’s waist, holding him in place. </p><p>Both of their phones start to ring at almost the exact same moment.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sure enough, Jaskier has all of his suitcases out and he’s shoving things into them with none of his usual finesse. </p>
<p>“Do you think I’m a monster?” Geralt snarls.</p>
<p>Jaskier gasps, too sharp to be fake, and reaches for his chest, spinning around. Geralt is appalled to see his eyes are swollen and red, like he’s been crying. “Gods, Geralt, what? No, of course not.” He sniffs and rubs the heel of his palm under his eyes. “I know I’ve gone and made a horrid cock-up of everything, and you’re within your rights to let me have it, but I’ll be out of here as soon as I can, I swear it.” </p>
<p>“Jaskier!” Geralt says, almost forgetting to be angry. “You can’t go anywhere. People are dying.” </p>
<p>Jaskier turns back around. “I can go stay somewhere by myself for a few weeks, it’s no big deal.” </p>
<p>“You’re not listening to me,” Geralt says, picking up the nearest suitcase and flipping it upside down on the bed. “You never fucking listen to me, even when I’m trying to save your life.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>When I wrote this, I had no idea what the state of the world would be like as the pandemic went on, and it is not my intention here to present an accurate representation of that. This will in no way mention the current events and is meant purely to be a fun "they're stuck in the same place oh no" story. </p>
<p>We need a little bit of sweetness right now.</p>
<p>Lyrics are from Talk Me Down by Troye Sivan</p>
<p>I am sorry for another cliffhanger but I promise it won't take another week for the next part goes up.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Part 4</p>
<p>
  <i>I wanna hold hands with you<br/>
But that's all I wanna do right now<br/>
And I wanna get close to you<br/>
Cause your hands and lips still know their way around<br/>
And I know I like to draw that line, when it starts to get too real</i>
</p>
<p>Yennefer is still talking, but Geralt registers nothing more than a dull roar. It’s all he can do to keep holding the phone to his ear. Jaskier is next to him, also still on the phone, but he’s talking a mile a minute, pulling at his hair with one hand and saying things about “damage control”. He’s looking at Ciri, and Geralt doesn’t know why he thinks he has any <i>right.</i></p>
<p>He’d tasted like chocolate, with the faintest hint of vanilla icing. </p>
<p>Geralt hangs up on Yennefer, and scoops up Ciri. She’s hopped up on sugar, and presents, and she immediately starts to protest. Geralt can sense that there’s very little between her and a total meltdown, because she still doesn’t quite grasp why they’re being kept from the people who love them and the video calls are never quite right or enough. That makes two of them. </p>
<p>If he stays one more second he’s going to lose control, and he will do everything in his power to spare Ciri from having to see that. It’s easy enough to distract her for the rest of the afternoon, especially once she passes out next to a coloring book on the floor. Roach almost immediately makes herself comfortable on top of the paper and crayons. </p>
<p>A plan seems far out of his reach. If only he could take down one of his swords and move through the practiced movements that came as naturally to him as breathing. Then his mind will quiet, almost like meditation, and he can begin to process losing ground on so much hard work. On breaking his promise to Ciri’s parents. </p>
<p>The kitchen is empty by dinner, although the decorations are still up. Geralt goes through the motions of feeding Ciri, and he continues to not look at his phone, and then goes through the motions of their bedtime routine, still not looking at his phone. Despite having an afternoon nap, her eyes are drooping by the time he has her in the bath and she lets him put her to bed without fuss. Then the only light in his bedroom is the Spiderman night light in the corner, and Geralt is finally alone. He finally exhales, switches on the baby monitor, and goes to the gym. </p>
<p>He’s not very far into stretching when his phone rings again. His instincts scream at him to ignore it, but if Yennefer is calling again, it must be important. If there was another person on the planet who cared as much about Ciri’s safety and well-being, it was Yennefer. He’d thought Jaskier was one of those people, too.</p>
<p>“I’ve found out the whole story,” she says without greeting him, tense.</p>
<p>“I told you this was a bad idea,” he growls. “It doesn’t matter how it happened. It happened because Jaskier was careless, self-centered-”</p>
<p>“It’s not his fault!” Yennefer cuts him off. He suddenly remembers that it’s her birthday, too, and this mess has ruined her day as much as his. And now it’s too late to say anything. “One of Ciri’s friends, Rebecca, has an older brother who is fourteen and obsessed with Jaskier, one of those, what do you call them, <i>Buttercups</i>, and he recorded the whole thing on his phone and uploaded it to YouTube.” Geralt can feel his teeth grinding. “He’s just a kid,” she says gently. “He didn’t mean anything by it. His aunt’s one of my makeup artists, she called me and told me everything, and how sorry the parents are, they’ve already taken it down.” </p>
<p>“It’s too late,” Geralt mutters. When she first called him, she explained how his face was all over the internet, and Ciri’s too, while Jaskier behind them performed a private concert for preschoolers. He hadn’t even played any of his own songs, which somehow made it even worse. People were trying to find out who Geralt was, and who Ciri was, and what kind of a life Jaskier was keeping from the world. </p>
<p>Geralt was wearing a t-shirt, his tattoo on full display. He hadn’t really noticed it was showing when he’d ended up on Jaskier’s stream a week ago, but someone had, and between that, and this new video, it was only a matter of time before someone found him in Jaskier and Yennefer’s videos. But he could recover, eventually, from having his private life stolen like that, he could lay low and work back to anonymity. The worst part was that Ciri looked like the spitting image of her mother, even at four, even through the lens of a camera phone recording a laptop screen. People still talked about Pavetta as if the tragedy had happened only a few weeks ago, still wondered what happened to her daughter and if she would ever turn up. He holds the phone so hard the plastic creaks. </p>
<p>“I’ll arrange someone to come get him,” Yennefer says, like he’s a frightened animal. “Your house is big enough, he can be gone and you won’t even notice.”</p>
<p>“What?” Geralt asks, startled by her offer. “He can’t leave. People are still getting sick. It’s not safe.” </p>
<p>Yennefer pauses. “Well. I better tell him to stop packing his things.” </p>
<p>“Fuck,” Geralt mutters and hangs up on her again.</p>
<p>Sure enough, Jaskier has all of his suitcases out and he’s shoving things into them with none of his usual finesse. </p>
<p>“Do you think I’m a monster?” Geralt snarls.</p>
<p>Jaskier gasps, too sharp to be fake, and reaches for his chest, spinning around. Geralt is appalled to see his eyes are swollen and red, like he’s been crying. “Gods, Geralt, what? No, of course not.” He sniffs and rubs the heel of his palm under his eyes. “I know I’ve gone and made a horrid cock-up of everything, and you’re within your rights to let me have it, but I’ll be out of here as soon as I can, I swear it.” </p>
<p>“Jaskier!” Geralt says, almost forgetting to be angry. “You can’t go anywhere. People are <i>dying.</i>” </p>
<p>Jaskier turns back around. “I can go stay somewhere by myself for a few weeks, it’s no big deal.” </p>
<p>“You’re not listening to me,” Geralt says, picking up the nearest suitcase and flipping it upside down on the bed. “You never fucking listen to me, even when I’m trying to save your life.” </p>
<p>“Stop that!” Jaskier reaches for the suitcase, and for a few absurd moments they tug on either side of it until Jaskier drops it, frustrated. “Fine! Go ahead and decide what’s best for me, as always. I’ll just, what? Stay locked in here for the next however long and hope we don’t run into each other?”</p>
<p>“No,” Geralt growls, “ I never asked for any of that.” </p>
<p>“Then what?” Jaskier asks, almost shouting, “You haven’t yelled at me, you haven’t kicked me out, or even threatened my life, although you have two very good reasons to want to do all of that. What do you want?” </p>
<p>“I want,” Geralt starts, and then stops. “Two?” his blood starts to feel icy, afraid of what else Jaskier might have done.</p>
<p>“Well, you know, the video, and I um, kissed you, and I’m starting to think that I should stick to stuff when I try to give people gifts from now on…”</p>
<p>“I’m not mad about that,” Geralt says, relieved. “Not anymore. The video wasn’t your fault, Yennefer explained everything.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Jaskier nods, “I’m still sorry. Really, truly sorry. I told them ahead of time not to share the video or take pictures, but these teenagers, sometimes. They’re a lot.” </p>
<p>“I’m hoping Ciri stays four forever,” he agrees.</p>
<p>“So,” Jaskier says after a moment, “I’ll see you in the morning?” </p>
<p>“Ciri will be mad if she wakes up without us,” he says, and leaves the room. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Geralt doesn’t remember agreeing to be Jaskier’s “date” to Pavetta and Duny’s wedding, but here they are, sitting next to each other at the reception, and Jaskier is making up stories about how they met to anyone who will listen. When it comes to Jaskier, that usually means everyone in a ten mile radius comes closer to hear him talk. So far he’s made up a story about Geralt saving him from a bookshelf that fell over in the library, and a fake first date that involves an ambulance ride and a shellfish allergy neither of them actually have. No one seems to have noticed Jaskier’s got a plate full of shrimp. </p>
<p>Geralt tunes Jaskier out when he gets like this so often that he’s almost certain that’s how he agreed to go along with his plan. There’s no reason for it, either, both of them were invited on their own, and the shared hotel room seems like a waste. Jaskier will most likely spend the night out partying, anyway. Yennefer keeps eyeing them from across the room and rolling her eyes, and Geralt would never admit that he’s a little annoyed that she doesn’t even seem jealous. She’s come with her own date, a vaguely familiar woman named Triss, and the two of them have a tendency to whisper together and giggle. Nothing seems fake about their relationship.</p>
<p>Normally Geralt would wonder how anyone is buying Jaskier’s tall tales, but the afternoon has already played out like a movie. Right before the vows, Pavetta’s estranged (powerful, lawyer) mother had thrown open the doors and marched in, demanding they call off the wedding immediately. Rumor had it that they had become estranged over the marriage, because her mother, famed attorney Calanthe Rhiannon, wasn’t used to not getting her way. However, faced with Duny and Pavetta’s obvious devotion to one another, she’d turned from furious ranting to tears, and had shoved the officiant out of the way and insisted on doing the honors herself. </p>
<p>Now she was sitting alone at her own table, drinking straight from a bottle of wine and sizing up all of the guests. Geralt hopes they are never introduced. </p>
<p>Jaskier takes his hand suddenly where it’s resting on the table, drawing it to his face and pressing his lips against his palm. His eyes are sparkling as he looks over his shoulder at Geralt, still holding his hand up. Geralt’s mouth goes dry, and he considers what would happen if he upped the game and kissed Jaskier on the mouth. </p>
<p>“Darling?” Jaskier asks, tilting his head, “I said, isn’t that right?” His tongue darts out and licks his lower lip. </p>
<p>Geralt blinks a couple of times and clears his throat. “Uh. Yes?” he tries, and Jaskier grins, seemingly pleased, and turns back to his new friends. </p>
<p>Geralt shakes his hand free and stands up, ignoring the looks of confusion. “I need air,” he mutters, and turns around and right into Pavetta. </p>
<p>“Geralt! Jaskier!” she exclaims, hugging them one at a time. “I can’t believe you’re trying to show me up at my own wedding, I had no idea you were together!” </p>
<p>Jaskier seems to choke for a second, and then leans in close to her and whispers. Geralt presumes he’s letting her in on his little joke, and her eyes widen for a second and she nods slightly, and then turns her grin back on Geralt. “The four of us have to get a picture together!” Duny only shrugs apologetically. </p>
<p>A picture of the four of them together turns into Pavetta insisting on taking pictures of just him and Jaskier together, a couple of posed shots where Jaskier leans into Geralt’s chest with one leg kicked up behind him. And another one, where the two of them pretend to slow dance despite the fast tempo of the music around them.</p>
<p>The music changes into something actually slow and meant for couples, and the photographer gets distracted by the bride and groom again, to Geralt’s relief. Jaskier is still holding onto him though, actually moving now in time to the music, and he starts to lead them around the floor.</p>
<p>“What are you doing?” Geralt asks between his teeth.</p>
<p>“Dancing with my boyfriend,” Jaskier says with a smirk. Despite the fact that Geralt doesn’t dance, ever, Jaskier’s actually managing to work with his two left feet instead of against them. Whenever Geralt falters, he works around it with grace. </p>
<p>“I don’t get the joke,” Geralt says, looking away, which only makes him stumble again. </p>
<p>Jaskier corrects him gently and then twirls himself on Geralt’s hand. “Just for fun, I guess. Isn’t it nice to be the center of attention for a change?” </p>
<p>“No,” Geralt frowns, and barely conceals his relief that the song is over. </p>
<p>That night, Geralt falls asleep alone in the too-soft hotel bed alone, as he expected, and wonders spitefully if Jaskier’s attempt at humor will interfere with seducing anyone tonight. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>When the limousine pulls up next to him, Geralt half expects to see Jaskier’s face behind the window. It’s just the kind of frivolous thing he would do. But it’s Pavetta’s mother inside, and she beckons him to get in and sit next to her. It doesn’t feel real at all. </p>
<p>“I met you at the wedding,” Calanthe says, tapping a pen against her lips. “You were with that loud boy, the one who kept trying to get the DJ to give him a microphone.” </p>
<p>Geralt sighs at the memory of feeling responsible for Jaskier’s behavior that night, even though it was a year ago and he was absolutely not. </p>
<p>“I wanted to have a talk with the man who might raise my granddaughter one day,” Calanthe says with a smile that barely conceals her ferocity. The limo has started moving again, and Geralt has the urge to memorize the sounds outside in case they try to bury him in the woods. </p>
<p>Geralt waits for her to continue.</p>
<p>“The strong, silent type,” she says with a nod. “I can see why Pavetta likes you. She’s always had a type. And you know how she gets when she wants something, I’m sure.” Geralt doesn’t bother mentioning that the apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree. </p>
<p>Calanthe keeps talking, and maybe she’s gotten used to Geralt’s lack of responses, or more likely, she doesn’t actually care if he has anything to say. “She’s never quite forgiven me for the choices I had to make when I became a single mother overnight.” He’s heard the story from Pavetta, how she’d been passed around to nannies while her mother built up a reputation as one of the most ruthless lawyers in Manhattan. She’s sworn off hiring a nanny now that Ciri’s born, and although others insist it’s impossible, she’s managed three months already. </p>
<p>He inclines his head slightly to acknowledge her. It’s really not his business how she justifies her parenting, but he’s certain she’s the reason Pavetta and Duny named him Ciri’s guardian in the event of their death. “You must think I’m a terrible mother,” she says dryly. “You know, it’s more than likely I’d win if I contested their will.” </p>
<p>Geralt knows. “You know how Pavetta gets when she wants something.” He’d been warned when he agreed to their request, that Calanthe might interrogate him, but it hardly mattered to him. They weren’t sick, or at risk. The gesture was mostly symbolic, and perhaps a little bit of a middle finger to both sets of their parents. </p>
<p>Geralt didn’t have to have ever seen Ciri’s tiny, perfect face to know he would protect her with his life, if it came down to it. </p>
<p>“My husband dropped dead suddenly at 34.” She presses a button and the driver becomes visible as the divider between them starts to lower. “Five minutes.” He nods slightly, and she raises the divide again. “Anything’s possible,” she says casually. “I’m not going to argue my daughter's wishes. Gods know I’ve wasted enough time doing that already. I live a busy life, and there’s no room in it for a child again, although I’d make do if I had to. I’m certain if the time comes, we can negotiate something that will please us both and benefit Ciri.” </p>
<p>“She’s not a business transaction,” he says, narrowing his eyes. </p>
<p>“Of course not,” Calanthe says, almost pityingly. </p>
<p>The car pulls the side and stops. Geralt reaches for the door, but Calanthe touches his arm. “You’d be better off with me as a friend than an enemy.” </p>
<p>He looks her in the eye. “I’m not really interested in either,” and he shakes her off and leaves the car.</p>
<p>Of course, then the unthinkable happens. Geralt realizes his own mortality for the first time, and the next day he becomes a father. When he arrives at Yennefer’s house, there are huge, dark circles on her swollen eyes and she’s not wearing any makeup. She collapses into his arms and lets him hold her for a while, and if the both of them end up crying, together, it’s not like they’ll ever tell on each other. </p>
<p>Yennefer’s phone starts to vibrate and she lets out a strangled sob. “I can’t talk to anyone about it anymore.” </p>
<p>Geralt nods and takes the phone when she hands it to him. He almost just turns it off, but he sees Jaskier’s name and portrait, nearly identical to the one on his own phone. “Jaskier,” he answers, rougher than usual. </p>
<p>“Is it really true?” Jaskier asks, unashamed that his voice is thick with tears. </p>
<p>“Yes.” Geralt tries to force more words out but nothing comes.</p>
<p>“Fuck,” Jaskier chokes, and the next few words come out in a a jumble of hiccuping tears. Geralt doesn’t need to know the words, though, to understand. </p>
<p>Yennefer’s left the room, and Geralt lets himself sink down to the ground and spread his legs out, and he wants until Jaskier has calmed down. </p>
<p>“I’m flying in,” Jaskier says, finally coherent. “I’ll be there by tomorrow night, I don’t care if they fire me.” They won’t. “Oh fuck,” he says suddenly, “What about Ciri?” </p>
<p>Geralt goes cold. “I guess. Uh. I raise her?” </p>
<p>“Like you need an excuse to make dad jokes,” Jaskier says immediately, and then for some reason the two of them, even Geralt, start to laugh. It goes on for too long, every time they stop, one of them starts up again in a few seconds, until Geralt is wiping tears from his eyes and struggling to breathe. “Too soon,” he mutters, and doesn’t feel guilty when Jaskier starts laughing all over again. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>After Ciri’s birthday, Jaskier does his best to make himself scarce, showing up occasionally at mealtimes or to look after Ciri, and then of course, every night. It’s easy for him to feign sleep and then sneak out of bed before Geralt’s awake the next morning. Geralt is starting to feel the oppressiveness of being stuck in the same place for weeks and weeks on end, and now he doesn’t want to even take a walk around the block in case someone is waiting out to take Ciri’s picture. He knows he can’t live like this forever, but at the same time, they have the perfect excuse to lay low until things die down. The person who delivers their groceries doesn’t even wait after ringing the doorbell, and Geralt never thought he’d miss having a real conversation that didn’t have anything to do with superheroes or princesses. But he does, terribly, and Jaskier has been almost literally dancing away from him for days. </p>
<p>He’s not exactly sure how to convince Jaskier that he’s not mad at him, and that he’s not secretly planning on putting rat poison in the sugar dish the next time he makes a cup of coffee. A few times Geralt holds his phone out carefully and debates calling Yennefer and telling her everything that happened, but what is she going to tell him? To kiss Jaskier back? She’s never understood Geralt’s refusal to act on his feelings. She’s assured him that Jaskier has no idea, but the “white wolf” motif can’t be a coincidence, which leaves Geralt trying to understand why Jaskier would have kissed him. Pity? Boredom? Maybe he thought Geralt would just want to fuck, and immediately had second thoughts from guilt. </p>
<p>Then Yennefer sends him another video, and he watches it with concern. </p>
<p>Jaskier must be holding his phone, talking into the camera. “Hello, Buttercups,” he says, worn out. The post date is a few days ago, and it’s just labeled “Announcement.” </p>
<p>“I’m sure you all saw my tweet a couple of hours ago. I thought about not saying anything at all, but it’s important that you all hear this from me. There’s a video out there, and it was supposed to be a personal, private moment for someone very special to me. I know it must be tempting to watch, but I’m asking you all again, please don’t watch it, share it, or re-post it, even privately. My friends in the video didn’t give their permission to be seen by millions and millions of people and you can’t imagine what it’s like to have your privacy taken away like that. So I’m asking you, please, please do your best to ignore it. And don’t go trying to figure out where it came from, it was just an accident. Thank you.” The video ends abruptly, and Geralt wonders why Jaskier didn’t tell him about it himself. </p>
<p>He knocks on Jaskier’s door a few hours later. “Geralt!” Jaskier says with enthusiasm that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Come in.” </p>
<p>The window is open, and there’s mugs piled up on the night table. His laptop is open on the bed, with a pair of wireless headphones laying next to it. He closes the lid and sits on the edge of the bed. “What can I do for you? No more youtube related crises, I hope.” </p>
<p>“No,” Geralt says from the doorway. “Wanted to say thank you. For asking your fans to stop sharing the video.”</p>
<p>Jaskier nods. “Most of them are better at technology than I could ever hope, and they’ll do a better job getting it off the internet than the best money could buy. Probably can’t get rid of it entirely, though.” </p>
<p>Geralt shrugs. “It was only a matter of time. She looks more and more like Pavetta every day. Someone was going to put it together.” </p>
<p>“Doesn’t really make me feel better about it.” </p>
<p>Geralt sits next to him on the bed. “Accidents happen.” </p>
<p>Jaskier looks at him and smiles wryly. “How come that doesn’t work on you when I say it.”</p>
<p>Geralt rolls his eyes. “Because the kind of accidents you’re talking about tend to involve explosions and broken bones.”</p>
<p>“Not yet!” he says, laughing, pretending to be insulted. “I’m a treasure to work with and you know it.” </p>
<p>“Is that why you hired someone else for your last video?” Geralt asks, without thinking about it. </p>
<p>“No,” Jaskier says, looking away. “I didn’t want you to see that one until it was finished.”</p>
<p>Geralt’s mood sours again with the admission. “That’s supposed to be me in the video, isn’t it.” </p>
<p>Jaskier stares at the comforter. “I thought you’d have brought it up sooner. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry about that too, but I can’t change it, either.”</p>
<p>“I probably deserved it, after the way I spoke to you.” </p>
<p>“Wait, what?” Jaskier faces him, confusion written on his face. “Deserved what exactly?”</p>
<p>Geralt folds his arms. “Are you really going to make me say it?”</p>
<p>“Geralt, I would never lie to you, except maybe once or twice about things that didn’t matter, but I truly do not know what you mean.” </p>
<p>Geralt examines his face, and decides he’s being sincere. “You weren’t making fun of me?” </p>
<p>“Making fun of you?” Jaskier asks, eyes wide. “For being so absolutely gorgeous and irresistable that fools like me can’t help but fall in love with you?” </p>
<p>Geralt gets up and starts back towards the door, his heart beating loud in his ears. “That’s not funny.” </p>
<p>Jaskier looks offended, which doesn’t make any sense. “It’s not a joke!” he insists. “Surely you must have caught on by now, I can’t even stop myself from trying to touch you in my sleep.” </p>
<p>“I’m touching you in my sleep!” Geralt shouts back, and immediately feels ridiculous to have admitted it out loud. </p>
<p>“Wait, wait,” Jaskier holds up his hands and stands up. “What are you saying exactly?”</p>
<p>“Isn’t it obvious?” he growls, each word painful. “I’m in love with you.” </p>
<p>“Fuck,” Jaskier breathes, in Geralt’s space as if he’s always been there. “I’m going to kiss you now.” </p>
<p>Jaskier kisses him like he did in the kitchen, like a question, and like in the kitchen, Geralt kisses him back almost immediately. It feels like he’s on fire and Jaskier is just feeding the flames, licking into his mouth, catching his teeth on Geralt’s lower lip. One of his hands slides into Geralt’s hair and pulls out the hair tie, tangling his fingers into the waves, and the other latches on bruise-tight to Geralt’s hip, as if he’s afraid he’ll disappear. </p>
<p>Geralt pulls back to breathe, their foreheads resting together, and he lets Jaskier kiss him once more, twice more, chastely on the lips. Then he lets go, and drags himself away, leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! Please visit me to yell into the void <a href="https://twitter.com/tentaclebowtie">twitter</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jaskier shows up in the gym one evening and he’s not flirting at all, just genuinely asking Geralt for his help. When Geralt follows him into the guest room, however, he’s immediately given some tall tale about Jaskier’s very favorite ring falling under the bed and he just can’t find it. He shows Geralt how to turn his iphone’s flashlight on and proceeds to practically drape himself across Geralt’s back while he peers under the bed. After a few minutes, Geralt rolls his eyes and grabs Jaskier’s hand and holds it in front of his face. “It’s on your hand,” he says dryly, and then watches Jasker take the ring off and toss it under the bed.</p><p>“Oops,” Jaskier says, leaning back and licking his lips. Geralt leaves the room.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here's where the explicit rating comes in, y'all. Some smut in this chapter, much more in the next ;)</p><p>Thank you for your comments and kudos, I'm so grateful you are coming along on this journey with me.</p><p>Song is Blue by Troye Sivan</p><p>And because I'm not a multi-million dollar streaming service, I will mention that from here on out the timeline is in linear order to avoid any confusion.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>I can't say no<br/>Though the lights are on<br/>There's nobody home<br/>Swore I'd never lose control<br/>Then I fell in love with a heart that beats so slow</i>
</p><p>Geralt isn’t sure if Jaskier was truly avoiding him for a week, but he spends the following one doing the absolute opposite. He starts to linger again in bed in the mornings, either feigning sleep or letting himself sleep in. Now, more often than not, Geralt blinks awake to find Jaskier looking at him, his bare foot pressed into Geralt’s calf. He knows what Jaskier sounds like when he says, “Good morning,” more of a breath that caresses Geralt’s face. </p><p>Then a morning comes, and Geralt is alone again, and it feels like a slap to the face. Even though he’s the one avoiding Jaskier during their waking hours, he’s allowed himself the pleasure of these mornings. But only a few moments pass, and Jaskier is holding the door open for Ciri as she precariously balances a tray in her hands. The tray holds a glass of orange juice, and a plate of kind of burned-looking Belgian waffles, covered in a healthy coating of whipped cream, fresh fruit, and syrup. The sight of it makes his teeth ache. </p><p>“Jas said we missed your birthday,” Ciri says very seriously, and presents the tray to him. “Happy Birthday, Daddy.” </p><p>Geralt can’t help but melt completely, and brings her in close to kiss her forehead. “Thank you, Princess,” her murmurs into her hairline, and she squirms happily, almost tilting the tray.</p><p>Jaskier is there to save the day, picking up the tray and scooting into bed next to Geralt so quickly that Geralt has to move over to avoid him sitting in his lap. Jaskier sets the tray down in front of them, and Ciri immediately starts to eat the waffles meant for Geralt. </p><p>Almost the second Ciri is distracted, Jaskier leans in close to Geralt’s ear. His fingers rest so gently on Geralt’s cheek, and he whispers, “I’m very good at waiting,” drawing his fingers from Geralt’s cheek to press against his lower lip. </p><p>Geralt feels himself burning hot immediately, embarrassment and something else making his skin prick. “That’s a lie,” he manages to mutter back, and Jaskier only smirks at him. </p><p>Geralt thinks maybe he’s going to cave and tie a gag around Jaskier’s thrice-damned mouth, and fuck him so hard he’ll feel it even after quarantine is over, no matter how long that might take. </p><p>Jaskier shows up in the gym one evening and he’s not flirting at all, just genuinely asking Geralt for his help. When Geralt follows him into the guest room, however, he’s immediately given some tall tale about Jaskier’s very favorite ring falling under the bed and he just can’t find it. He shows Geralt how to turn his iphone’s flashlight on and proceeds to practically drape himself across Geralt’s back while he peers under the bed. After a few minutes, Geralt rolls his eyes and grabs Jaskier’s hand and holds it in front of his face. “It’s on your hand,” he says dryly, and then watches Jasker take the ring off and toss it under the bed.</p><p>“Oops,” Jaskier says, leaning back and licking his lips. Geralt leaves the room.</p><p>Geralt finally loses it when Jaskier asks him to help cut his hair. It really is starting to get long now, covering his eyes halfway and curling around the back of his neck. Geralt keeps his own hair almost permanently in a ponytail now, and he figures in a couple of more weeks he’ll just cut a few inches off of it and carry on. Jaskier, however, moans about his hair for days, because Valdo Marx gave himself a buzz cut last weekend, and then bleached it and did a fan poll to decide what color to dye it. Jaskier doesn’t put up a fight when Geralt bans hair dye in his bathrooms, but he still wants to cut off just a little bit, “won’t you help, please Geralt?”</p><p>“No,” Geralt growls for the thousandth time, plucking the scissors out of his hands. “You’ll cut an artery.” </p><p>“Geralt!” Jaskier complains, for once without a hint of seduction. “I have an image to maintain! I know you cut your own hair.”</p><p>Geralt rolls his eyes. “I’m not a celebrity.”</p><p>“Debatable,” Jaskier says, waving his hand, and then winces. </p><p>Geralt sighs and drops the scissors on the bathroom counter and searches through a few drawers before finding the clippers. “I’ll clean up your neck,” he compromises, because it would irritate him, if he had short hair. </p><p>“A gentleman and a scholar,” Jaskier agrees, and tilts his neck forward slightly. Geralt decides he’ll make Jaskier handle the clean-up later, and gets to work, resting one hand on Jaskier’s naked back while the other shaves the back of his neck. </p><p>“Does anyone ever tell you how big your hands are,” Jaskier says with a hint of wonder, and there it is, the seduction’s back. </p><p>Geralt’s hand twitches, one part fury, one part lust, and accidentally cuts a jagged little line into Jaskier’s scalp. “Fuck,” he mutters, and pulls the clippers away. </p><p>“What did you do!” Jaskier asks hysterically, feeling the back of his head and then groaning as he turns around. “I know I get on your nerves but please tell me that wasn’t on purpose.” </p><p>It wasn’t, even remotely, but Geralt shrugs as if he isn’t sure. </p><p>Jaskier’s hands fly into the air.  “You’re ridiculous!” he shouts, his face in a frown so deep it seems fake. “As far as punishments go, I’d rather sit in the corner next time.”</p><p>“You think I’m punishing you?” Geralt asks, and Jaskier flushes pink. </p><p>“I may have been-” he starts, but Gerat cuts him off by kissing him, scratching his nails against the strip of freshly bare skin while his other hand held firmly to Jaskier’s hip. </p><p>Jaskier kisses him back, immediately filthy, biting into Geralt’s mouth and crushing their groins together. “Finally,” he murmurs into Geralt’s mouth, dropping his hands down underneath Geralt’s waistband to grope at his ass. </p><p>Geralt makes an inhuman noise in his throat and fumbles with Jaskier’s pants while they kiss, and then his own. And they sink to the floor together, still kissing, and Geralt presses their cocks together and starts to stroke in time. </p><p>“Fuck, fuck,” Jaskier whines, and each thrust of his hips seems like its punched out of him. “You feel so good,” he says, and keeps on praising him until he’s coming over their cocks and Geralt’s hand.</p><p>Jaskier covers Geralt’s hand with his own, and it must hurt as he squeezes their cocks together, but his low, satisfied moan  is enough that Geralt’s spills, pressing his forehead into Jaskier’s neck and gasping. </p><p>Geralt cleans himself up silently, and tosses a hand towel to Jaskier. Then Geralt leaves, and Jaskier’s disbelief follows him with a frantic, “We have to talk about this!” </p><p>Geralt makes it about five feet away before Jaskier catches up to him and pulls on his arm. “Would you stop for a second,” he starts, but Geralt violently shakes his hand away. </p><p>“Stop touching me,” Geralt growls, facing Jaskier and crossing his arms. “You’ve got what you’ve been after, okay?”</p><p>Jaskier brushes the hair out of his face roughly and crosses his arms too, always exaggerated, as if he’s the one who’s had his quiet, normal world turned upside down these past few weeks. “What are you talking about?” he asks, exasperated, “I told you I’m in love with you, what else do you want me to say!” </p><p>Geralt brushes his words off. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.” </p><p>Jaskier’s eyes widen then, and he inhales sharply. “You really don’t believe me.” </p><p>“No,” Geralt agrees, “You don’t really want someone like me.” </p><p>“I don’t know what that means,” Jaskier says fiercely, closing in the distance between them even as Geralt backs away, “But it’s bullshit. You don’t get to tell me if I’m in love with the man that’s been there for me when no one else has. The man who’s been my best friend for years.” </p><p>“Best friend,” Geralt scoffs, looking down. “I don’t have friends.”</p><p>“Oh Geralt,” Jaskier says, the fight gone out, pulling him into a tight hug. “I swear to you, there’s more than enough people who care about you.” He holds him close, even when Geralt starts to tremble. “Me most of all, okay?” </p><p>“Okay,” he sighs, because he doesn’t know what to do with Jaskier now that he has him, but it feels so good to be held so tightly in his arms.</p><p>Jaskier pulls his head back and cups Geralt’s chin. “Will you stop running away from me, please?” </p><p>Geralt just nods, because he doesn’t know what else to say. </p><p>***</p><p>Almost the second Jaskier barrels through the last of Geralt’s defenses, Ciri seems to make it her personal mission to keep them apart from one another. They’re even still in the same room most of the time, but she’s there, and she needs their attention. The quarantine has dragged on for two months now, and the last month has felt somehow interminably slow and also like no time has passed at all. As much as Geralt would rather stay home, he’s starting to miss his family. And he’s starting to miss his friends, he’s realizing, since Jaskier insisted he had them. </p><p>He feels foolish to realize that there are people he wants to see again, that he wasted so much time convincing himself that he preferred to be alone because he thought that was his only option. </p><p>He sees his every interaction with Jaskier through a new light. All the times the other man sought out his company, told him his secrets, and doted on his daughter. He’d thought it was just the way Jaskier was, and now he knows each moment to be something precious, just for him. He was surprised to realize he could tell the difference between Jaskier entertaining his fans and actually talking to people he cared about. Jaskier spoke to him like a confidant, trusted him with certain stories when no one else was around. </p><p>They’re in the playroom, and Jaskier’s hooked up his Switch so he and Geralt can race each other in Mario Kart while Ciri alternates between sitting in their laps and instructing them how to play. Geralt isn’t sure the last time he’s laughed so hard. When Jaskier wins, despite following the instructions of a toddler to the letter, he starts to whoop and cheer and kisses Geralt on the mouth. He pulls away suddenly, blushing, and looking somewhat guiltily at Ciri. They haven’t said anything to her about their relationship, because Geralt still isn’t sure what they’re doing and Jaskier isn’t pushing him on it. Despite the incident in the bathroom, they haven’t done much more than kiss, for hours, like teenagers, until it gets late and they migrate to Geralt’s bed. </p><p>If Ciri thinks there’s anything unusual or upsetting about their kiss, she doesn’t say so, not yet old enough to be disgusted by the idea of her father kissing someone. Geralt turns back towards the game and gets them set up for another race. </p><p>“I want to save you the worry,” Jaskier says very seriously that night, holding Geralt’s hands in the kitchen while they clean up dinner. “I’d put Ciri’s health and safety above my own mother’s, so you don’t have to worry. I know there’s no one more important to you.” </p><p>Geralt kisses him fiercely then, and has a little more of a picture in his mind of where this relationship is going. “I’d find a way to save you both,” he swears, and the relief is so sweet and unexpected when he realizes Jaskier understands so much about him without being told. </p><p>***</p><p>Of course, there’s the matter of the Fight, now eight months ago. The stretch of time in between doesn’t feel real to Geralt anymore, and he’s tempted to say nothing and move on. But part of him needs to know. </p><p>Jaskier is writing song lyrics at the kitchen island while Geralt washes dishes. He uses his task as an excuse not to look at Jaskier when he asks, “Why didn’t you talk to me for six months?” </p><p>When the silence stretches on, he sneaks a look to see that Jaskier is staring at him, open-mouthed. “You didn’t talk to me for six months!” he says finally, Which, okay, Geralt didn’t approach Jaskier, but it’s not like Jaskier had approached him, either. “I thought you were going to quit that day. I thought you were furious at me.”</p><p>“I was furious at you,”” Geralt agrees, wincing at Jaskier’s hurt look. “Not about the car chase. About the white wolf.” </p><p>“That fucking white wolf,” Jaskier scoffs, “I’m such an disaster when it comes to love, aren’t I.” </p><p>Geralt nods. “I thought you were mocking me.”</p><p>“I know,” Jaskier says, leaning on his hand and looking at Geralt with what can only be described as open adoration. “Although I’m not sure how telling everyone how gorgeous and irresistible you are is much of a mockery.” </p><p>“Fuck you,” Geralt says without heat, flicking dishwater at him. Jaskier responds by wrapping himself over his back and nuzzling into his neck. Geralt holds tightly to his wrist. </p><p>***<br/>It becomes apparent that after two months going on three of forced isolation, Geralt’s sanity depends on leaving the house sooner than later. Ciri is practically climbing the walls and Geralt doesn’t feel far behind her. Somehow Jaskier is his same level of chipper at all times, even though he’s still regularly streaming videos and most likely fielding dozens of questions about his current living situation.</p><p>Jaskier had offered to come up with a list of rules for what he can or cannot say in regards to Ciri and Geralt. But Geralt has known him for years now, and despite his enthusiastic attitude towards his own celebrity, Geralt trusts him in this more than most things. That, and they all know Yennefer will do away with him and destroy the evidence if he ever did anything to purposefully put them in harm's way. </p><p>Geralt has been in enough court-mandated therapy to know why it matters to him so much that Ciri is a child and has no choice in her own fame. That even though his childhood was vastly different, his rage flairs at the idea of so many strangers discussing her without her consent. Even now, over an accidental candid video, people are discussing her hair (long, wavy, a peculiar shade of platinum that people mistake as hereditary when they see her and Geralt together), her clothes (a baby blue set of Olaf footie pajamas, because it was one of her birthday gifts and she wanted to wear them), and worst of all, comparing her to her mother. For now they just talk about how similar they look, but one day, sooner than it should be for anyone, people will start attributing mature descriptions to her still-juvenile body. </p><p>Geralt loves his brothers, but it still took several arguments and one fist-fight their father barely managed to break apart before they stopped talking about Yennefer and Pavetta as if they were commodities. Hell, Geralt grew up in locker rooms and said, and thought, his fair share of things he would cringe to think of now. </p><p>He’s worried about Ciri, all the time, and he doesn’t quite have the words to explain himself. He and Ciri have a family therapist now, and it’s fortunate that the doctor is intuitive enough to connect the dots between Geralt’s upbringing and his attempts at fatherhood. But Jaskier doesn’t know any of that, and doesn’t need the threat of Yennefer to respect Geralt’s almost excessive level of protectiveness. </p><p>Still, he tries to find the words, like trying to pull the most stubborn anchor with one hand tied behind his back. He and Jaskier should be enjoying the latest Star Wars movie that dropped on Disney+, curled together on the couch, late at night. It’s not a franchise that’s caught Ciri’s eye yet, and it’s not exactly Geralt’s choice, but he’ll try anything that makes Jaskier’s face light up with excitement. He’d watch a commercial about toothpaste. He’s even considered learning how to play Dungeons and Dragons. But despite the flashiness of the film and Jaskier’s constant colorful commentary, Geralt can’t stay focused for more than five minutes at a time. </p><p>Finally Jaskier pauses on a wide, open shot of space. “Star Wars isn’t for everyone,” he says, forgiving, bumping his elbow into Geralt’s chest.</p><p>“That’s not it,” Geralt mutters, and both marvels and curses Jaskier’s unerring ability to see right through him. </p><p>Jaskier’s voice drops low, and he leans in. “Something else on your mind?” </p><p>Geralt turns away before he can get too close. “No. Fuck.” He winces at the look of hurt he can imagine on Jaskier’s face, braces himself for the feel of his body heat disappearing when he leaves.</p><p>Jaskier tilts his face back towards him, and instead of hurt, he looks open, and understanding. “Do you need some space? It won’t hurt my feelings if you’re sick of seeing me. I couldn’t blame you.” </p><p>“You’re not sick of me,” Geralt says, almost a question. </p><p>“I’ve always been a hopeless romantic,” Jaskier replies, and makes the sweetest sound when Geralt kisses him. </p><p>He pulls back reluctantly. “I need to tell you something,” he starts, and still Jaskier doesn’t look concerned or suspicious, his piercing blue eyes still only holding only sincerity, a little bit of softness he doesn’t show when the cameras are rolling. </p><p>Jaskier untangles himself from Geralt’s lap and sits sideways on the couch, folding his legs under him. He takes one of Geralt’s hands in his and kisses his knuckles, before resting their hands between them. “I’m listening.” </p><p>Geralt tells him <i>everything</i>. Once he starts it feels like a faucet turned on full blast, and it’s so easy to let it out, even if it comes out in fragments, out of order. If he narrows his focus down to only the feeling of Jaskier’s thumb as it brushes over the pulse point of his wrist, he can almost pretend he’s not waiting for his face to change into judgment or criticism. </p><p>“I did this interview for Buzzfeed,” Jaskier says when Geralt is finished, when the silence has stretched between them a little too long. Once, Geralt might have assumed that this meant Jaskier was bored, but he thinks maybe Jaskier was waiting to be certain he was done.</p><p>Jaskier flips Geralt’s hand palm up, studying it carefully. “This was, I don’t know, five years ago? Possibly longer. I’d just dropped my first album, and you know how much I love talking about myself. They asked me all these questions about growing up, for some reason, and I told this lovely story about how I’d put on shows every evening for my mum and dad growing up.” He laughs a little. “It’s not exactly untrue, but I can’t say they encouraged it or paid a lot of attention to it. I’ve always thought my parents looked at raising a child a bit like a financial transaction, one that worked out extremely well for them since my talents were so obvious and easy to cash in on. So I left. You know, I was 18 when Yennefer found me in that dive? I thought I might die on the street.” </p><p>He’s drawing one finger over Geralt’s life lines, each path leaving a trail that Geralt can feel tingle down his arm. “We’re not our parents,” he says, and it's devastating, and somehow exactly what Geralt wants to hear. “Although,” he amends with a small smile. “I’ve met Vesemir. Vesemir seems alright.” </p><p>“He’s good,” Geralt agrees. “When this is over, you should come to dinner at his place. With my brothers, too.” </p><p>Jaskier’s grin turns full-fledged. “I hope you won’t be offended if I don’t extend the same invitation.” </p><p>“I would turn you down,” Geralt says seriously, delighted at the mock outrage Jaskier puts on, and resolves to find a copy of every interview he’s ever done. </p><p>So Geralt lets Jaskier convince him to take Ciri outside. Some of the local parks are opening with strict social distancing rules, and Ciri consents to a fabric mask, as long as her hedgehog can have one, too. Even though they all know it will end up filthy, probably in the dirt, by the time the afternoon is over, it’s going to deter any photographers at least a little bit. Jaskier has sworn death upon anyone who gets within six feet of the three of them for any reason, and Geralt is secretly pleased even though he rolls his eyes and tells him to calm down.</p><p>Eventually Geralt is going to have to get used to the idea of winding up in the tabloids with Ciri every once in a while, but he finds he doesn’t mind with Jaskier by his side. Even if the three of them are wearing Disney Princesses on their mouths.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! Please visit me to yell into the void <a href="https://twitter.com/tentaclebowtie">twitter</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He’s not sure how to explain what’s bothering him, though, and blames the quarantine instead, the uncertainty of the news, the future. It feels strange to even admit that much, but Jaskier manages to bring it out of him. He fusses over Geralt, when he thinks he’s not feeling well, insists on fixing him some kind of comfort food even if he has to call out for it, prods him to go to bed before midnight and provides an endless stream of kisses as a reward. Geralt doesn’t know what he’s being rewarded for, until Jaskier explains it’s a reward for him, for being such a caring and thoughtful boyfriend.</p><p>The word sends a tingle up Geralt’s spine, and that feels like a reward, too. So Geralt starts to feel guilty about the bathtub, even though there’s no way the guest bathroom is less than adequate. At least that bathtub doesn’t have dolls on the bottom of it, like Geralt’s sometimes does.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The romantic conclusion. </p><p>Thank you for your kind comments and kudos and coming this far. I truly appreciate it.</p><p>Song title from Bloom by Troye Sivan</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>I bloom (just for you)</i>
</p><p>The thing is, since Ciri reached about two and a half, she has this habit of hunting Geralt out like a heat-seeking missile. And if it’s not her, it’s Roach. He’ll leave the playroom and Ciri is content, distracted by her toys or a movie, and then he turns around from the fridge and she’s less than a foot behind him. Or he’s in the bathroom, trying to take a shit and all of a sudden there’s a paw, or a tiny hand, or god forbid, both, reaching under the door for his attention. </p><p>So Geralt doesn’t have a lot of places to hide, and when Jaskier shows up it’s easy to just say the master bathroom is out of order. He’s not proud of it, but there’s enough bathrooms in the place that it hardly matters. The other shower/bath combos are perfectly serviceable. It’s just not that great if you compare it to the jacuzzi style bathtub that Geralt uses. It’s big enough for him to stretch out comfortably, which is no small feat, and it was what drew him to this particular house in the first place when he realized he couldn’t raise a child in a shoebox apartment. <br/>But then, suddenly, just as Geralt was getting used to the idea of being friends with Jaskier, they’re something else. Something more. At first Geralt thinks that something will change, or he’ll feel different. He asks Jaskier to explain to Yennefer, and that night she looks at Geralt with seems like respect and congratulates him without a hint of teasing or irony. Jaskier seems disappointed that he didn’t have to pull out his blackmail about that one thing that happened with the blow-up unicorn, but Yennefer just seems happy for them. And everything else more or less stays the same. </p><p>Geralt worries next, what to say to Ciri, if he should even say anything at all. The consensus online seems to wait to tell your kid about your new boyfriend until you’re serious, but Geralt thinks he’s serious, and Jaskier has made it clear that he’s serious. It feels uncomfortably childish to try and quantify the nature of their relationship, and he ends up scowling about it for days without realizing it before Jaskier gets fed up with his attitude. </p><p>He’s not sure how to explain what’s bothering him, though, and blames the quarantine instead, the uncertainty of the news, the future. It feels strange to even admit that much, but Jaskier manages to bring it out of him. He fusses over Geralt, when he thinks he’s not feeling well, insists on fixing him some kind of comfort food even if he has to call out for it, prods him to go to bed before midnight and provides an endless stream of kisses as a reward. Geralt doesn’t know what he’s being rewarded for, until Jaskier explains it’s a reward for him, for being such a caring and thoughtful boyfriend.</p><p>The word sends a tingle up Geralt’s spine, and that feels like a reward, too. So Geralt starts to feel guilty about the bathtub, even though there’s no way the guest bathroom is less than adequate. At least that bathtub doesn’t have dolls on the bottom of it, like Geralt’s sometimes does.</p><p>If Jaskier doesn’t shower at least once a day, he starts to complain, which is absolutely ridiculous because Jaskier never smells like anything but citrus perfume, tangy with a hint of sweetness. As the day goes on he only starts to smell more and more like himself and Geralt can bury his face in his neck and just breathe without choking. </p><p>“I can’t believe it’s been two days since I’ve showered and I didn’t even notice,” he moans, sniffing under his armpit and making a disgusted face. “I’m so gross, I can’t believe you didn’t say anything!” </p><p>“You’re not <i>gross,</i>” Geralt says, and almost rolls his eyes, but Jaskier seems so genuinely distressed.”...I need to tell you something.”</p><p>Jaskier’s petulant frown melts away. “What is it?” he asks, and he’s so concerned that Geralt feels even worse. </p><p>Wordlessly, he takes Jaskier’s hand and leads him towards the master bathroom. </p><p>“While this is beautiful, Geralt, unless you’ve become a plumber in the past couple of months, which is actually possible I guess, maybe? Nevermind-”</p><p>“It’s not broken,” he interrupts him. </p><p>Jaskier seems to have an argument with himself for a few moments. “You kept this from me? On purpose?” Geralt nods. “Well. I suppose it’s not bad as far as mistresses go.” He sits on the lip of the tub and fiddles with the faucet. “I can’t believe we’ve wasted so much time not having sex in this.” </p><p>Geralt gives him a very unimpressed look. “Ciri will be up any minute.” </p><p>“Then hurry up!” Jaskier abandons the running water to start pulling off his clothes. Geralt realizes that he’s never seen him fully naked before, and is pleased to see that the dark hair that covers his chest continues down his legs. He notices that Geralt is staring, and puts his hands on his hips. “Are you coming or what?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, climbing into the bath and making a noise of pleasure when his foot hits the warm water. </p><p>Geralt starts to strip as well. He sets the baby monitor carefully on the counter, and says a quick prayer that Ciri stays asleep for a little longer. And she does, long enough for him to stretch himself out over Jaskier where he’s laying against one wall, loose-limbed, one hand under the water and holding his cock almost idly. He leans in to kiss him, and the monitor crackles to life. </p><p>“Daddy I’m awake!” Ciri announces. </p><p>Geralt groans and drops his head, and gets distracted for a moment with the urge to suck a bite into his collarbone while Jaskier gasps and squirms in surprise beneath him. </p><p>“Daddy!!” Ciri calls a few seconds later, as if there’s an emergency. Geralt is reasonably sure she’s okay, but. He kisses Jaskier and pulls away.</p><p>“Take as long as you like,” he says, trying not to sound disappointed. He dries off as quickly as he can before Ciri tries to come find him herself. </p><p>Jaskier does nothing to hide his frustration. “Now I have to enjoy this king-sized sauna all by myself! You’ll have to make it up to me.” </p><p>“You’re a true martyr,” Geralt says dryly. </p><p>Jaskier doesn’t join them again for the rest of the evening. Geralt half-expects to still find him in the bathroom several hours later, but when he puts Ciri to bed, Jaskier is gone. He doesn’t even show up for Yennefer’s call. </p><p>Geralt finds him in the guest room, wearing nothing but a fluffy white robe and playing his Switch. </p><p>“Ugh,” Jaskier groans without looking up when Geralt walks in. “I just woke up like ten minutes ago. I’m like a toddler when I don’t have a routine.” </p><p>Geralt hums his agreement as Jaskier shuts off his game and pouts at him. His hair is wavy and sticking out in the back, as if he fell asleep with it wet, and he sighs as Geralt starts to unfasten his belt. “You have fingerpaint in your hair,” he says but allows himself to be kissed.</p><p>Geralt is not in the mood for a bath anymore as he opens Jaskier’s robe and starts to push it down his shoulders. Jaskier smells like clean skin and the soap Geralt uses, and nothing else for a change, and Geralt can start to kiss down his neck and make a match for the bite mark he left earlier. </p><p>“Wait, wait!” Jaskier says suddenly, slapping his palms against Geralt’s chest until he moves away. “Go away for ten minutes.”</p><p>Geralt gives him an unimpressed look. “What?” he asks, unable to keep the suspicion out of his voice. But when Geralt doesn’t start to move immediately, Jaskier starts pushing him off the bed, and away towards the door. </p><p>“Just trust me,” Jaskier says before shutting the door in Geralt’s face. Geralt isn’t quite sure how they got here. </p><p>Roach happens to wander by, and he leans down to give her a few scratches. She meows unhappily when he briefly lets her go so he can get to the floor, and climbs into his lap to headbutt his chest.</p><p>A loud crash comes from the guest room and Roach startles, hisses towards the door, and bolts down the hall. “Fuck,” Geralt mutters, almost in time with Jaskier’s much louder, but identical, cry. </p><p>He waits until it’s been 10 minutes exactly before he knocks on the door. </p><p>“I said ten minutes!” Jaskier yells back.</p><p>“It’s been eleven,” Geralt says and opens the door, half-surprised it’s not locked. </p><p>“I hate you,” Jaskier pouts, and Geralt silences him with another kiss. Or tries to, but Jaskier is bending backwards, rabbit-fast. Geralt catches his hand before it can smack his chest again. “Are you going to look around the room, you brute?” </p><p>Geralt obliges and takes a step back. First he looks at Jaskier, and sees he’s changed out of the robe he was wearing earlier and into...another robe, although this one is much shorter, made out of cerulean silk. Geralt has to swallow the urge to touch it, and also, rip it away. He looks around the room instead, and sees that it’s full of lit candles, and the mess on the bed has disappeared. “This is a fire hazard,” he says.</p><p>Jaskier rolls his eyes. “You’re such a dad, do you know that?” He makes as if to start snuffing them out, but Geralt catches him and pulls him backwards into his chest. </p><p>“It’s nice,” he says.</p><p>Jaskier twists around. “We really need to work on your idea of a compliment.” </p><p>“Oh?” Geralt says and cups his chin, leaning in to whisper, “You look good enough to eat.”</p><p>Jaskier shudders in his arms and kisses him, and Geralt lets himself get lost in it for a little while. Jaskier’s hair is still a little messy in the back when Geralt threads his fingers through it. The little, accidental bald strip is still there, just starting to grow back. </p><p>It reminds Geralt of the first time they had sex, and how much he’s wanted to since, but the memory of that night makes him pause, even now. Geralt loses all of his composure around Jaskier and he doesn’t even realize it until it’s too late. </p><p>Jaskier breaks the kiss, and Geralt thinks he’s caught now, and Jaskier is going to make them talk about this. Jaskier keeps making him talk about things, and it feels good, even if he’ll die before admitting it. </p><p>Jaskier sits on the edge of the bed and spreads out a little, enticing. “You should undress, darling,” he drawls. </p><p>This makes Geralt wish he’d let him extinguish the candles. They give off enough light that it isn’t hard to see, enough that Geralt can’t hide what he looks like under his clothes. Earlier, when they were rushed, at least he could ignore the discomfort. Jaskier wouldn’t look and see each discolored and mis-matched scars all over his body. They’re all reminders of the fights he used to get into as a kid, and then accidents during training, and then just occupational hazards. Each one has a story he refuses to tell. He’s not self-conscious of them, exactly, but they stand out against his already pale skin, and with his amber eyes, white hair and his bulk, he’s certain he paints a strange picture. </p><p>As he undresses, he feels the weight of Jaskier’s stare on him although he doesn’t say anything about the scars across Geralt’s chest, his shoulders; a particularly dark and puckered looking mark on his hip. </p><p>“You’re gorgeous,” Jaskier breathes, and instead of a cliche it sounds reverent.</p><p>Geralt sits in his lap so he doesn’t have to hear it again, and the silk is cool where it touches his skin. Undeterred, Jaskier starts dancing his fingers over Geralt’s arms, tracing the scars feather-light, but he doesn’t ask about a single one. He doesn’t stop until he seems satisfied that he’s felt every one. “I’d like you to tell me about them, sometime. Not now.” </p><p>“If you’d like,” Geralt says casually, as if the words themselves don’t nearly get caught in his throat. Jaskier’s smile somehow eases the ache. </p><p>Along with a dozen candles, Jaskier has left a bottle of lube and a condom on the night table. “I tested clean last time, and obviously I haven’t slept with anyone for three months, but I figured we should probably both get tested, right? When this is over? Unless this is a one time thing, in which case-”</p><p>“I don’t do one time things,” Geralt says, exasperated. </p><p>Jaskier sags a little with relief. “No, of course it’s not.” </p><p>“It’s a good call,” Geralt agrees, rather than admit how long it’s been since he’s needed to get tested. He leaves the condom for now, and picks up the lube. He half-expected it to be some kind of ridiculous flavor, but it’s just plain and scentless, and he doesn’t want to know how much it cost. </p><p>Jaskier sits back against the pillows and pulls the belt around his robe loose, letting it cascade open around him. Geralt has a chance now to appreciate the planes of his body, soft where Geralt is hard; unblemished. A landscape of skin disturbed only by dark, slightly curly hair. So, not disturbed at all then. </p><p>He crawls over Jaskier’s body like he’d done earlier, before they were interrupted, and as he moves, Jaskier starts to stroke his half-hard cock. “Someday, I’m going to just look at you while I touch myself.” </p><p>“Lot of plans,” Geralt rumbles, “What about right now?” He slots their bodies together just right, so that his thighs bracket Jaskier’s. Brushes his cock against Jaskier’s hand a couple of times until Jaskier gets the hint and lets himself go. When their cocks touch it lights a fire in Geralt’s spine, and Jaskier drops his head back and moans, a delightful, overwhelming sound. Somehow he manages to get lube on his hand, and then that hand around them both. Jaskier starts to spill nonsense, pleas, praise, but none of them are an answer to his question.</p><p>“I think I’ll ride you,” Geralt decides and lets go of both of their cocks in favor of getting more lube. </p><p>“Holy fuck,” Jaskier says, “Yeah, perfect, do that,” as if someone’s offered him free money and he can’t quite believe his luck. When Geralt tosses him the lube, he takes it. Geralt expects him to slick himself up, maybe touch himself again, while Geralt opens himself up. He does not expect Jaskier’s finger to press up against his hole just as he slips his own inside. He exhales, but Jaskier doesn’t try to push in. Just leaves his fingertip there, gently rubbing the skin. As the moments pass, Geralt feels himself loosen, and lets his finger slip out. Jaskier seems to understand immediately, replacing it with two of his own. </p><p>“You take me so beautifully already,” he sighs, “Does it feel good to fuck yourself on my hand, baby?” Geralt makes a noise that means yes, while Jaskier scissors his fingers, somehow touching him everywhere at once and completely where Geralt would like him to go. “Geralt,” Jaskier scolds as he adds a third finger, “You can use your words, I know you can.” </p><p>“Do you ever shut up?” Geralt growls, and that’s when Jaskier finally lands home, turning the noise into a shout.</p><p>“There you go,” Jaskier soothes, his free hand coming to rest on Geralt’s chest. He’s fucking Geralt now at a pace that almost feels fast enough.</p><p>“Okay,” Geralt says, grabbing Jaskier’s wrist and pulling at him, “I’m ready.” </p><p>Fumbling the condom on Jaskier takes longer than he’ll ever admit, his hands shaking with want, and then finally he starts to lower himself on Jaskier’s cock. It takes his breath away, hot and hard and so much more than just a few fingers. Jaskier stays still, although it seems to take an incredible effort, gripping the sheets tightly. There’s sweat just starting to drip down his temple, and he’s biting his lip as he watches his cock disappear, inch by inch into Geralt’s body. </p><p>“Gorgeous,” Jaskier says firmly, to no one in particular when Geralt is fully seated. His hips are twitching in little half-thrusts, but Geralt isn’t sure he can move yet. He’s not sure he can ever move, certain he can feel Jaskier filling up his entire body. He imagines for a second what i would feel like without the condom, the pleasure-pain of it, and rocks forward.</p><p>Jaskier moans with the movement, his hands flying to Geralt’s hips. “Can I fuck you?” he asks, but when Geralt nods, Jaskier doesn’t move. “Tell me? Please?” </p><p>“Yes, yes,” Geralt forces out, starting to move for real, letting Jaskier control the movement for a while, then taking over, then giving it back. He has to lean forward at one point, the hair falling out of his tie and into his face as he braces himself with his hand. </p><p>When Jaskier covers Geralt’s hand with his own, squeezing tightly, Geralt thinks he might fly apart, and he’s still talking, praising him when he can’t stay quiet. Geralt starts to jerk himself off, and every brush against his prostate pushes him towards the edge, and maybe he should be embarrassed with how long it’s been and how desperately he wants it, but it feels too good for him to care. When he comes, it’s with Jaskier’s name in his mouth, and at the sound of it, Jaskier moans and thrusts up, sudden and hard, nearly sobbing as he comes. </p><p>It’s hard not to feel disappointed to let Jaskier slip out of him and take care of the condom. “Do you always travel with this many candles?”</p><p>“What?” Jaskier’s nose crinkles in a terribly distracting way for a moment. “It’s called Amazon, Geralt.” </p><p>“Hmm.” Geralt gets up and turns on the lamp by the bed, before putting out the candles one by one. Then he finds his boxers and leaves to get them both water.</p><p>When he comes back, Jaskier does a terrible job of hiding his relief. Geralt doesn’t comment on it, because he thinks he deserves it. He’s just glad that Jaskier didn’t leave, or worse, seem confused that he came back. The robe has been replaced with a pair of loose sweatpants, a sight that’s so familiar to him already. “I think we did this backwards,” he says as he hands Jaskier a glass. </p><p>“I was planning on seducing you,” Jaskier says, pointing towards the candles with the glass. “Before you took your frustration out on my poor hair. Since subtlety wasn’t working.” </p><p>“Subtle as a heart attack,” Geralt can’t help but say. “How many times do I have to tell you it was an accident.” </p><p>Jaskier sticks his tongue out at him, and then pats the space on the bed next to him. “Come on, I want to touch you.” </p><p>Geralt goes as requested, and Jaskier immediately wraps their legs together and throws his arm over his chest, resting his head by his heart. He lets out a little sigh of pleasure as Geralt brings his arm down to hold him close. “Next time, will you fuck me in that bathtub?” he asks.</p><p>Geralt sighs, because they’re going to spill water everywhere and someone (Jaskier) is probably going to break his neck. “You aren’t going to take no for an answer, are you?”</p><p>“Nope,” Jaskier says cheerfully. </p><p>Geralt doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but he must, because he wakes up, disoriented, to the sound of whispering. The light’s been turned off, and his eyes slowly adjust to see that Ciri has wormed her way in between them and is carrying on most of a conversation while Jaskier blinks sleepily at her. Occasionally he nods. When he realizes Geralt is awake, he smiles.</p><p>Geralt throws his arm over them both, and goes back to sleep.</p><p>***</p><p>Of course, Geralt still has to tell Ciri, and he still doesn’t know how. The longer it takes, the more monumental and foreboding it feels, until finally, Ciri takes care of it for him. </p><p>“Does Jas live with us now?” she asks during lunch one afternoon, pretending to sword fight with baby carrots. It’s been almost four months now, and while some places have tried to go back to normal, their city has not, although there’s talk of “phases” to re-open. </p><p>About a week ago, Jaskier seemed to notice the paparazzi photo on the wall of his bedroom and asked Geralt the story behind it. The next day, the picture was gone. In its place, there’s a still from Ciri’s disastrous birthday zoom, the three of them grinning over matching cupcakes. </p><p>Right now, Jaskier is in the guest room, which has morphed into a sort of recording studio, because he’s been asked to participate in some sort of “live from home” broadcast. He’s been getting ready for days, barely appearing at mealtimes and passing out almost immediately into an exhausted sleep at night. In contrast, Geralt’s classes have ended and the next ones cancelled, and he’s got nothing but time to kill most days. Which translates into entertaining a toddler with cabin fever. </p><p>“Not exactly,” Geralt answers her after considering for a moment. “We don’t know how much longer we have to stay in. Jaskier works a lot, and sometimes he has to go away for a few weeks at a time, like Yennefer.” </p><p>“I don’t like it when Yennefer leaves,” she says seriously, and hands Geralt one of her carrots and taps the other against it. </p><p>They make fighting noises together for a moment, before she gets bored and takes a bite out of her sword. “There’s something I want to tell you,” he starts, “About me and Jas, I mean Jaskier.” </p><p>“Are you getting married!” she shrieks, eyes wide.</p><p>“What? No,” he frowns, “Did you already know that Jaskier is my boyfriend?” </p><p>“Yes,” she says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s why we all sleep together.” </p><p>She says it like it’s so easy, and Geralt realizes it really is. They have no idea what’s going to happen in the next few weeks, but Jaskier wants to be with him, fits into his life without even trying and always has. Maybe now he’ll even listen when Geralt tries to stop him from throwing himself into danger. But probably not, if the bruises they got when they finally had sex in the tub are any indication. “I’ll be right back,” he says, and drops a kiss on the top of her head.</p><p>He doesn’t hesitate when he reaches Jaskier’s door, just knocks, light but firm. Jaskier pokes his head out after a minute, looking distracted. “Everything alright?” </p><p>“I love you.” </p><p>His confusion melts into a wide grin. “I love you too.” Geralt cups his cheek and kisses him. </p><p>“I have to get back to work, you know,” Jaskier murmurs after a while. . </p><p>“I know,” Geralt agrees, and kisses him for a little longer.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! Please visit me to yell into the void <a href="https://twitter.com/tentaclebowtie">twitter</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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